


The days and nights of Pleiades

by littleLuciernaga



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Age Alterations, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, M/M, brief mentions of eichi/leo, brief mentions of eichi/tsumugi, brief one sided natsume/leo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2019-07-06 14:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 81,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15887700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleLuciernaga/pseuds/littleLuciernaga
Summary: Tsumugi, a wanted criminal, escapes a merchant boat after months of traveling and serving fishermen. He washes up on the distant shore of the Old Lands, where his world will forever change as he re-learns how to live with the most unlikely help; the mysterious Oracle of the kingdom and his young companion.(Side-story to the Viimike Kingdom au featuring the Switch boys and occasional cameos from other characters.)





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ViiMike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViiMike/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Realm of Oaths](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11878872) by [ViiMike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViiMike/pseuds/ViiMike). 



> ahaha i havent written fics since 2013 so HI BE GENTLE ALSO I HOPE U ENJOY

Dying at the ocean’s end isn’t such a bad way to go, is it?

That’s the one thing Tsumugi can take comfort in, if all else fails. Sunburnt, sickly, bones aching, poorer than dirt, weapons and dignity lost for a bite of bread and cheese once every other day…but at the very least the sight before him is beautiful.

Despite it being by death’s door, his current position is leagues better than what he deserves for his ugly upbringing and the even uglier deeds under his name. He always thought his passing would be as lonely, yes, but the scenario was usually a lot dirtier; his lifeless body thrown aside with the rest of his kind, burnt and cleaned away, and in the best of cases, a proper burial overseen by his king.

It was probably selfish to imagine someone like him would deserve such a high honor, he knew as much, but at the same time, he wouldn't ever doubt Eichi Tenshouin’s kindness and dutifulness to reward his usefulness-- because he’d obviously died for his beloved king’s sake in each and every thought that involved his own corpse. He knew Eichi enough to be sure that's how things would turn out.

...Ah, but that’s not the case anymore, is it?

He could almost laugh. If not for the pain, he’d be grinning already.

It all felt like it had happened slowly, even if it was actually all so sudden and frantic-- the split second Tsumugi could manage to catch the look of shock and recognition in King Leo Tsukinaga's eyes when his blade was unsheathed, and how quickly it contorted into rage when the poisoned steel went into a young knight's body instead of his own. The screaming. The running. The arrows. More running.

Honestly, the fact that Tsumugi's last mission would be coming out so disastrous was obvious even to the naked eye, and he had nobody to blame but himself.

How very typical that all he decides to do for himself always turns out so bad.

And, sadly enough, just as typical, he can’t find it in himself to be surprised or angry about the turnout. One would usually blame the fatigue on such little care, but that was only excusing his thoughts this time around; Tsumugi has never had much of a use for care, anyways-- not when there were coins to be earned and people to serve.

And now that there’s neither, he can only press the other side of his face to the hot sand beneath him. He’s been lying down for so long that the tiny rocks, though soft, have already made some sort of a texture across his cheek.

He’s barely taking in the heavy scent of salt and the dampness of his clothes when he finally closes his eyes to blink, but finds himself unable to open his lids right away. Somehow, it burns a little, but the realization that this was just the relief for the rest his body has been demanding for weeks makes it worth it. Nice, even. Maybe he’ll finally be able to sleep without worrying about cleaning a deck next time he opened his eyes. Maybe someone would be merciful and stupid enough to drag him away from the lazy crash of the orange afternoon waves.

Or, best case scenario, maybe he wouldn’t open his eyes again.

In the midst of his passing out for what he thinks will be the last time, Tsumugi is incapable of noticing the light footsteps that approach his beaten body, and much less of replying to their concerned calls asking if he was in any need for assistance.

In fact, he’s already passed out so heavily he doesn’t even notice as he’s skillfully levitated deep into the woods overlooking the beach, and later the insides of a simple but lovely cabin.


	2. Purgatory

There’s no real way to tell at the moment, but Tsumugi’s almost sure he died at the beach.

Otherwise, he couldn’t explain the flashes of visions overcoming him after losing his consciousness into the confusing and oftentimes blurry darkness, and he certainly can’t explain the nearly forgotten sensation of softness beneath his body. It downs him until he’s been conscious for minutes:

_Is this a bed…? Gods. It's a bed.  A real bed._

_Heavenly, comforting_ \-- so many words to describe his relief start coming to his mind as soon as the realization clicks in; but that quickly also makes room for the truer, harsher terms; _unwarranted, unnecessary, undeserved_ \--

**Drip, drip.**

Tsumugi has never taken pride in being heartless, but he’s also aware he’s lost a lot of sensitivity over the years, so the sudden swelling up and wetness at the corner of his eyes comes off as a huge surprise.

He’s not sure if it’s the overwhelming gratefulness for his safety, the comfort of having a bed beneath him after months of wooden floors, or maybe even the guilt for betraying Eichi’s expectations of living forever with fishermen, but there’s something eating away at him at the moment; something that somehow manages to be more powerful than all the blood on his dagger. He wants to frown at himself for being so weak-willed.

_Ah, how unsightly._

And then, just as he scolds himself, something else comes in as suddenly as the tears. Something delicate but firm, thumbing a trail between his eye and his chin.

“How _unsightly_.”

A deep and unfamiliar voice echoes his thoughts.

Tsumugi feels he may have heard it in his sleep, somewhere between dreams of his dreadful voyage and the hell that surely awaited for him. He feels compelled to open his eyes, but his fatigue is far more than what he’d given it credit for; all he can really manage is to half-open his lids, a blurry sight dazzling him further into questioning if he was even alive or not:

A person sits at the side of his bed. Sharp eyes are locking just fine into his exhausted glance, golden in color and cat-like in shape. Their long hair is a deep and fiery red with little white strands here and there, noticeable even in the darkness of the room, along with exquisite, jewelry-filled robes that twinkled and dripped with their every movement, subtle as they were.

Tsumugi’s a little too tired-eye to tell if this is the case at all, but the person above him looks like they're glaring at him. Or... trying to, at least, because the finger that had touched his face remains slightly above him, as if waiting for the chance to caress another tear away--very contradicting to their seemingly disgruntled expression.

And, dare he think...they were  _beautiful_. But he can’t smile at the thought nor speak it out loud, only now noticing his inability to even say a word. The stranger pulls their hand back curtly after what feels like an eternity of sizing him down.

“...Nightmares come for all, though. Even thieves and assassins such as _yourself_.”

Ah, do they know him?

Even if he could, Tsumugi wouldn’t respond to such nasty titles with anything other than the shift of his glance. There’s no use denying his profession when there’s a million ways his reputation could be following him, after all. Or he could possibly just happen to be in heaven or hell, where everyone knows all. Were his wrongdoings going to be recited back to him now?

There’s an uncomfortable silence before the person speaks up again, probably realizing Tsumugi couldn't answer even if he wanted to.

“Do not do this again, though. Much less in front of my apprentice, do you understand? You are not in the right to do that-- not to mentioned far too drained to give yourself the luxury of _tears_.”

Tsumugi drowsily stares up for a moment before nodding. Strangely enough, despite being scolded for crying and despite the very strange enunciation to certain words of their speech, there’s something very soothing and compelling in this stranger’s voice. Something that seems to be intentional, for they now lean in close to his face, a long tendril of white-and-red strands of hair tickling over his nose. Their knife-sharp eyes remain locked into his as more words come out of their lips with a firm but soft whisper.

“That being said... _sleep once more_ ,” Another pause, and Tsumugi’s eyelids are slowly closing.

This is a command. Or rather--

“ _Sleep until you can properly explain yourself_.”

Or rather...a spell.

Either way, Tsumugi finds himself obeying so effortlessly he has to wonder if this exchange already happened within the time he’s been recovering his energy in this strange place. If anything, he’d make sure to try and remember this one as best as possible next time he woke up.

At the end, though, he doesn’t know if he will. He’s just as confused as he was at the beginning:

Had someone actually been foolish enough to rescue him from the ocean?

Could this be heaven, hell, or whatever is in between?

The only thing Tsumugi is sure of, at the moment, is that his mysterious helper could be either a demon or an angel and neither would be that surprising to find out.


	3. Colors

The next time Tsumugi manages to open his eyes, it’s for good.

Though his vision and consciousness return, it’s as slow and gradual as waking up from a good night’s sleep; almost as if everything that had happened up until his supposed death by the ocean had been one long dream and not the other way around. He’d be wondering still if he had died had it not been for the homely smell of broth triggering a rumbling from his empty stomach; the undeniable and very alive sound of hunger.

And right after, the bubbly sound of laughter that doesn’t come out of his own mouth.

Tsumugi glances at the source of it, blinking in surprise when he realizes how close it is-- right by his bedside, in fact. The person who might or might have not been a dream was coming to his mind now, and all he knows is that they’re the opposite to the one sitting in their place right now: an unmistakably young boy with sandy hair, tan, sun-kissed skin and kind blue eyes. He smiles as Tsumugi’s gaze finds his.

“Hello, mister! You couldn’t have chosen a better time to come to your senses, Sora’s specialty is almost done cooking!”

Despite being greeted so warmly, Tsumugi doesn’t find himself in a position to reply as cheerfully just yet. He closes his eyes to take in the smell of the cooking dish and lets out a small and thoughtful hum when he manages to register it.

“That is...very concentrated,” He says, quiet and groggily, figuring these are his first words in days, “Seafood?”

“Yes! Sora just had to. Sora caught so many fishes and oysters on his last trip to the beach that there was no way Sora couldn’t do a feast with them!”

“I don’t think I can stomach seafood at the moment.”

A beat. Tsumugi frowns at himself for his bluntness.

“Ah...I mean, I’m sure it’s delicious, but right now-”

“No, don’t worry! Sora understands,” the boy quickly says, “Sora’s been sick too, even his favorite dishes are really unpleasant at the time he is!”

Such a statement after a rude interruption like that would usually be empty politeness, but Tsumugi can notice remarkable sincerity in the boy’s words. It’s honestly a little off-putting, considering what trained liars he’d been surrounded with up until now. He blinks up.

“Little one...do you live here by yourself?”

The boy smiles and shakes his head.

“Nope. Perhaps it was Sora’s master who’s more familiar?”

That makes Tsumugi sit up.

“I think...I met someone, that’s for sure. In my dreams.”

“What did they look like?”

Tsumugi closes his eyes to envision it better, and the more he thinks about it, the less likely it seems to have happened. He hums, speaking without revising anything.

“Um...fiery hair and the sharpest golden eyes I’ve ever seen. A goddess, maybe. She brought me back from the dead.”

There’s a moment of silence before the boy breaks into giggles, which makes Tsumugi smile nervously. That sounded a lot less stupid in his head.

“Too far-fetched?”

“No, that sounds just about right!" The boy says, cheery, "You have met Sora’s master for sure.”

“I see...please thank her for me, then.”

“Thank _him_ , mister; his name is Natsume!”

Another beat. Tsumugi can feel his cheeks go red at such a misunderstanding, and the boy laughs a little more.

“I’m sorry, I thought--!”

“Don’t worry! Master is so pretty Sora can understand why someone would call him a goddess... Try not to tell him to his face, though! Sora might not be able to help if he gets angry.”

“Alright, then I’ll be careful.” He looks at the boy up and down, analyzing him. “And this “Sora” you speak of so much would be…?”

The boy gestures to himself, grinning still.

“Sora has been Sora for quite some time now, and master is master.” He tilts his head, “What about you, m’lord?”

This makes Tsumugi laugh for the first time in days. It’s a tired and humorless sound.

“Tsumugi Aoba... Not a lord, for sure.” He’s anything but lord-like, of course. Never was, and will certainly never be. “What makes you think so? I doubt anything about me looks regal enough.”

“Well, Sora sees many colors, m’lo--err, _Sir_?”

_Colors?_

“...I’m not sure if that’s an appropriate title either, but do continue.”

“Right...What Sora means to say is that the colors that surround you are all royal, Sir.”

Sora’s words are now no longer cheerful, but soft and certain. His eyes are looking in Tsumugi’s direction, but not directly at him. It’s like he’s scanning his outline and everything _around_ him.

If not for the homely atmosphere of the room and Sora’s calmness, Tsumugi would probably find it a little off-putting, feeling like he’s being exorcised. He listens on as the boy continues:

“It’s a rather messy mix, but Sir’s colors has been influenced by many others...kind of like they’re being surrounded, yes. By golden and silver, like the crests and the armors and everything Sora sees in important texts and scrolls . And somewhere in the middle, Sir´s own color...oh, that’s actually kind of muddy, now that Sir is awake...”

Tsumugi almost laughs again. 'Muddy' sounds appropriate enough for him.

“Let me guess,” He goes, “Red or brown?”

But much to his surprise, Sora shakes his head.

“No, Sir. That’d be blue…”

“....Ah,” He nods, “Another royal tint, yes?”

He thinks of Eichi and his sky-colored eyes, but the answer Sora provides is different:

“That’d be the color of sadness, Sir.”


	4. Acknowledgement

The Oracle of the Realm has been a bit more of a hermit as of late.

One would probably blame his sullenness on the troublesome arrival of a stranger and how he’s occupying one of his beds for an unlimited amount of time, but that inconvenience had been already foreseen; As most major events, Natsume Sakasaki knew what would happen and had prepared Sora accordingly to host a stranger.

The real issue, he had decided, was how suddenly and utterly he had grown to _despise_ this stranger.

Even now, though he should be relaxing, Natsume finds himself squinting at the thought of Tsumugi; this dying, foolish and dangerous man, suddenly so fragile and self-serving once he has a chance to atone for his past or show gratitude to his saviors. A touch of the stranger's hand while sleeping had been enough to show Natsume the most pitiful past and plenty sins to match, yet none of it really made sense; not only had he been used and mistreated for so many questionable deeds, but he also seemed to play a big part on consenting, accepting and even suggesting most of it. Shouldn’t he be at his strongest now that he was away from such a terrible life and with bonds broken to the enabler of it all? Had his experience so far taught him anything from his enormous lists of mistakes or the amount of blood he spilled?

Natsume glares at the ceiling when he considers that if his current attitude was the only thing to go by, the answer was a definitive ‘no’.

Currently, that dead-weight of a guest does nothing but...well, _exist_. No eating more than he needed, no talking unless talked to, no reading out of the fantastic collection of books around the house... no effort, no will. Natsume feels more like Sora brought home a mutt and not a man, and the thought that he wouldn't even deny it if he was called that to his face angers him even more.

What an ingrate.

The days had turned into weeks, and The Oracle remained hidden inside his room for most of the day, refusing to meet and much less talk to his guest. Sora still visits him on the daily for a mug of tea and their usual magic lessons, but the interactions for his days stopped there; with no wandering strangers or travelers seeking their destiny, the Oracle was but a restless witch, frustrated and pensive.

-

“Master,” Sora pipes up one sunny morning, “has it been long enough for you to properly introduce yourself to Sir Tsumugi?”

“No.” Natsume replies, without missing a beat. He gazes to a side to avoid looking at his apprentice with harshness, but the boy remains calm despite noticing it.

“Oh, alright. Then when?”

“It will not happen. I simply do not _want_ to.”

“Well...that might not be necessary since Sir already knows Master owns this place, sure,” Sora continues, carelessly scribbling away on his scrolls, “but it would be nice if we all knew each other well enough so we could all dine together sometime… the basement floor is very cold, after all.”

Natsume scoffs.

“That old thing _chose_ to stay there. I am not responsible if his taste in rooms aligns with dungeons or if he starves alone.”

“Yet Master makes enough food for three when it’s his turn to make dinner,” Sora adds, smiling pleasantly at his ink, “and so does Sir! So the two of you know you exist...and deep down, you already get along, maybe? So just a simple meeting couldn’t go so wrong.”

There’s a pensive silence at that. Natsume thinks to himself that, though childish, Sora’s perceptions are not to be ignored. Not that they had any means of being correct in this case, but...if anything, Natsume could appease his apprentice’s request to prove him wrong. Mistakes were all part of a learning process, after all, and he was willing to have a distasteful experience if Sora could learn something from it. He still refuses to look at him, the slightest bit annoyed to be cornered so easily by such a chipper boy.

“...I suppose I do need to assert my domain over this house.” Natsume finally mutters, “That man has a lot of nerve to think he can just avoid the Oracle forever... I will show him that there is no stalling _destiny_.”

“Haha, how splendid! Should Sora arrange a meeting time to tell him, then? Perhaps for breakfast?”

“No need. I will take it upon myself not to interrupt fate if we are to meet, is _all_.”

“Okay, so...Master is still sulking. Sir has to come and see you himself and you won’t ignore him, is that it?”

“I meant exactly what I _said_.”

Sora doesn’t bother hiding his laughter.

\--

That very night, Natsume tries but fails to sleep.

Restless nights are a given when one lives by the noisy sea, but they can certainly get worse and more prominent with a busy mind. He groans to himself when he sits up, and stares blankly at the wall as he decides what exactly he wants to do now that he’s awake; It’s not a rare occurrence, but it never stops being so annoying.

A few minutes later, he settles on picking up a book. He hears no noise downstairs nor sees candlelight from the crack of the door when he makes it to the basement hallway, so he figures Tsumugi isn’t awake at the moment.

“Ah...”

He figures wrong.

Sitting down directly under a crack on the roof with an open book on his lap, Tsumugi stares up at Natsume, mouth slightly open in surprise. Natsume’s expresion mirrors his for a second, but he’s self-conscious enough to turn his surprise into a glare as soon as possible.

“You--What are you _doing_?”

“Oh-” Tsumugi closes the book on reflex, standing up to put it back in place. “Oracle--My deepest apologies, I was just--”

“Were you reading in the _dark_?”

“Again, I apologize, I--”

Natsume snags the book before Tsumugi places it back to its pile, making him yelp in the process. He has to press it close to his own face and squint really hard in order to make out what the title even is, and his eyes widen the slightest when it registers.

“...Today’s lesson.”

Tsumugi cringes.

“I know and I’m sorry, really-”

“Stop apologizing,” Natsume urges, looking for the page with the latest bookmark- a dry leaf, nearly coming apart with all the movement. He has to walk near the crack in order to study the pages properly, and quiets down for a bit. Tsumugi nearly yelps when he speaks up again, so sudden and sharply.

“You understand _this_?”

It takes him a moment to answer. Tsumugi’s not sure if he’s just being asked or accused, but nods slowly.

“...I, ah. Yes. The castle I worked at before my previous job required literate servants, so…”

“No, not just the words in common. I am talking about the runes. The _spells_.”

Tsumugi blinks in cautious silence. Though this isn’t certainly the first time he sees or hears the Oracle, he’d never been addressed in a way that he was expected to talk back--and Natsume understands it too, silently praying Tsumugi doesn’t bring it up. The man sheepishly walks over to the book as well, pointing one bony finger at a specific paragraph.

“Well...sort of. Something like this is basic, so I can read it... but I can’t quite cast it. I doubt I can cast anything at all, really, so I just read for fun.”

Natsume’s eyes follow the pointed spell, and his suspicious expression growing harder.

“Reading spells for fun in the middle of the _dark_. Am I to believe that?”

Tsumugi laughs dryly.

“I wouldn’t want to waste any of your candles and my vision is already very damaged from my late teens, so it’s not like I have anything to lose…”

“And how are you capable of reading runes?”

“My old job. Due to my previous...err, _master_ , I had access to many texts, including introductions to old and lost arts of magic.”

“Did you also read in the dark?”

“Well, daytime was busy and I wasn’t about to waste light on something so silly, so…”

Natsume just stares at him in disbelief. He knew Tsumugi could be self-punishing, but to go this far...

“ _Gods_ ,” He goes in an annoyed huff, unceremoniously shoving the book back into its pile, “wait right here.”

The Oracle is a little too fast, leaving Tsumugi behind in nothing but concerned stammering as he attempts to follow him out of the room.

“I--Oracle? Do you need me to fetch anything? Should I clean all the books I’ve been touching? Or should I perhaps--”

His rambling is interrupted by a shove and a finger to his lips, shushing him.

“I said to stay here, did I not?” Natsume asks, annoyed. His expression softens the slightest when Tsumugi seems to finally understand the order without the need for a commanding spell, shoulders relaxing and slumping down. He lowers his voice a little above a whisper now that they’re coming out of the basement. “Also, keep it quiet. Sora is still fast asleep...or at the very least, he should be by now. I will curse you if you bring about trouble, do you _understand_?”

A slow nod. This should satisfy Natsume, but the little he can see of Tsumugi’s expression doesn’t show any kind of fear at his shows of power or the harshness of his voice; quite the opposite, in fact, for he seems to study and fascinate himself with his every word. It’s off-putting.

“...Anyway. Return to the _basement_. I need to dump some things on you, and I do not want you getting in my way while retrieving them.”

Tsumugi can sort of realize where this is going, but figures it won’t get him anywhere to guess and upset Natsume further. He simply nods again, returning to the basement room without another word. Natsume’s own shoulders relax when he’s finally out of sight. He walks until he reaches the dining room, crouching to reach the compartiments with the house’s cooking supplies.

“Where were those, again…?”

 

\--

  
Tsumugi had expected Natsume to come back with just a candle, but the bread and butter came off as a huge surprise. Were his senses completely awake, he would’ve made an effort not to look too hungry, but the sight of food nearly made him salivate on the spot.

“That is--”

“Light so you stop needlessly straining your eyesight. Leftovers from my dinner, also,” Natsume says, all too quickly setting his items down on the floor while avoiding Tsumugi’s look, “I could hear your stomach rumbling the second you approached the book. It was _annoying_.”

“Aha...It’s not something I can control, but I’ll regardless offer my apologies.”

That gets him an eye roll. Tsumugi chuckles, settling down to eat. Natsume does so as well, somehow managing to look regal despite sitting on his long robes on a dirty wooden floor.

They eat in silence, neither really finding it in them to start a conversation. It starts making Tsumugi self conscious--though a bit fascinated-- when he realizes Natsume’s not really grabbing all that much, but when Natsume catches him staring, he glares again.

“Do not hold back just because I am not one to eat much. There is a reason I had leftovers at _all_.”

“Sorry, it’s just… you’re actually rather dainty, aren’t you?” Tsumugi blurts out, much to his own surprise, “I figured you’re still growing, but I see you’re also probably just naturally delicate?”

Natsume only squints.

“And I see you’re naturally _insolent_.”

“Ahaha, that’s right…” Tsumugi thinks he should quiet down again, but feels compelled to ride on the sudden burst of confidence to speak, “Did I guess correctly, though?”

Natsume needs a moment to consider his answer, puzzled by Tsumugi’s casual attitude. His shameless and easygoing words are a big contrast to his self-punishing nature, and while it still annoys him, he guesses it’s better than dealing with a wallflower.

“...I will not humor your assumptions, but I will tell you I already am of age.” Natsume says, looking down at his hands. “I am far from being as old as I could be, but I am already a fully-fledged adult by your _norms_.”

“Is that so…” Tsumugi nods along, intrigued. “I had a feeling you weren’t like me or Sora-kun...would it be too much of a stretch to ask your exact age? I should be around my thirtieth year soon, if I’m not mistaken.”

“How can you not know that for certain?”

Tsumugi shows him the sad smile he’s growing to hate.

“It’s not exactly a day I keep track of, you see. It’s not so important.”

“That's _pathetic_ ,” Natsume mutters, struggling to keep his look down. He hears Tsumugi chuckle as if he’d told a joke, and the discomfort it causes him is enough for him to glare back up again in warning--of what, he isn’t so sure, but he speaks up again.

“Not that you deserve to know, but I am still in my human _years_.”

“Oh, are you?”

“My twentieth- _third_.”

“And come summer you’ll get older?”

Natsume just raises his eyebrows at him.

“Not really, no. I assume my name gave you that impression.”

“Absolutely.”

“ _Stupid_.”

His words are harsh, but his tone isn’t--not entirely. Tsumugi actually finds himself chuckling again, this time softer and more real. Maybe he’s as stupid as Natsume says, but it didn’t make him unhappy to hear.

“Well… that would make me your elder, then.”

“Yes, but that means nothing to me. If anything, it makes me respect you even _less_.”

“My, you’re quite harsh... Is it because of my old profession?”

Natsume squints.

“I am thoroughly unimpressed with your past deeds. I’ve had worse than lovesick assassins wander into my territory before, so _no_.”

Lovesick. That word does such an unflattering but fitting description to his state that Tsumugi can’t even bring himself to chuckle again, this time only smiling tightly.

“Mm, then it’s just my lousy personality…?”

“You say that as if it was not enough reason to despise you.”

There’s no reaction for that. Tsumugi’s agreement is silent and awkward, but not without question. He eats a little, carefully eyeing Natsume’s expressions. The Oracle mostly stares at the floor, aware that he’s being studied. He doesn’t really face him when Tsumugi suddenly speaks up.

“Then-- how come I get to share a roof and food with you and little Sora-kun, if you don’t mind me asking? You’re not exactly all that wealthy despite your jewelry...as far as I can see, at least.”

“Bold of you to just assume things about me so _freely_. But I simply foresaw that my apprentice would want you here. He has a way of...swaying my decisions, final as they may be.”

“But you’re still the master,” Tsumugi continues, almost urgently, “I’m sure if you talked to him properly, he’d understand why I have to go.”

That catches Natsume’s attention, making him glance up.

“...Are you advising me in how to properly dispose of you?”

Tsumugi simply shrugs. Natsume sighs.

“Well, do not do that again. I may hate you, but I am not heartless. I can see plain as day that you are a dead _man_.”

“But I’ve been healthy for weeks, now…”

“I do not mean your _physical_ health.”

“....Ah. Fair enough.”

Though he was given reason, Natsume doesn’t seem all that pleased. He’s now fully looking at Tsumugi, his stare so intense it makes Tsumugi self conscious to keep eating--he simply stares back, waiting for another scold. What he gets is different.

“So, hopefully you understand now,” Natsume starts, “Your stay is not by all means a welcome one, but it is _necessary_.”

Tsumugi can only blink.

“I...how so?”

“For the _books_.”

“The books?”

“Yes, the _books_ ,” Natsume huffs, annoyed, looking over at the pile next to them. “You actually understand them and you stay right here where we store them. You might as well make use of your time and study them properly as well. Maybe arrange them or take care of them and our materials-- I do not give a damn just as long as you stop doing _nothing_ whenever I look at you. Plus, it is good for my apprentice to have companionship and another aid in the management of the house.”

The more Natsume talks, the wider Tsumugi’s eyes grow; despite the harshness of the Oracle’s tone, and no matter how hard he was trying to frame this as his being trapped here with no option... this was nothing but an offer. One for a new home, nonetheless- a purpose, regardless of his past actions. A new beginning.

Natsume must know this as well, because he gives Tsumugi space to think about it once he’s done talking, and it makes the man smile lightly to himself. When he doesn’t speak up, Natsume does so, quietly, for a moment more himself than the Oracle.

“...So you understand?”

And Tsumugi has no doubts.

He can now raise his head, confident for the first time all night.

“....I understand, yes. I also understand that you’re very kind, Oracle.”

The compliment, as he thought, isn’t acknowledged- at least, not in a conventional way. After a tiny and personal moment of something that seems a little bit like a relief, he glances at Tsumugi with a squint.

“ _Refrain from repeating any of that or I shall curse you._ ”

Tsumugi nods, though he’s laughing a little. Natsume raises his hand in warning, to which he stops immediately. Then, he actually gets up to continue talking, arms folded as he looks around the basement.

“Alright. now that we have finally gotten through this awful introduction and explaining, we might as well better this situation.”

“Ah- pardon?”

Even though Tsumugi is straining his neck looking up, he stays in place, holding on to his loaf of bread. Natsume pays him no mind, eyes fixed on the corners of the poorly lit room.

“This _place_. Undesirable or not, you are to live here. You would be utterly useless if you collapsed due to a lack of proper sleep...not to mention your eyes will continue to waste away if you keep insisting on reading in the dark.”

“My vision is pretty poor in the daylight as well, so it’s not like it makes much of a difference...”

When Natsume stops to glance again, Tsumugi yelps in anticipation for another scold or warning, but the Oracle just seems to ponder even more. Despite his bold and sudden decisions, he seems to actually put a lot of thought into the little details-a thing Tsumugi is just now learning, much to his surprise. He almost calls out to Natsume when he speaks up again, suddenly.

“...Very well. I shall send a message to Wataru-niisan.”

“Wha--who, -about what?”

Natsume seems not to even listen to the retort, humming to himself.

“He is resourceful enough...and he loves me plenty, so he will get me a pair of glasses as soon as I ask for them.”

“But-”

And into a roll he goes, pacing around the room while thinking out loud.

“That pile of books is _unsightly_ as well, in all honesty. If our books are staying anywhere, the least we could do is arrange them in a shelf--I will ask Sora to go into town for building materials. And you will go with him to carry them, of course.”

“I--”

“Then there is the issue of your old ragged clothes, so textiles and jewelry from Shuu-niisan would be necessary as well-”

“Oracle, I-”

“And then when it comes to-”

“ _Natsume-kun!_ ”

There’s a silence at that.

A few beats pass, and though Tsumugi has something to say, the look on Natsume’s face stops him dead in his tracks; it’s a face he hadn’t seen on him so far, one of legitimate surprise. Such an expression is so new he has no idea how to read it-- was a scold coming next? Actual punishment for forgetting his place? It was such a weird impulse to call him that that Tsumugi himself isn’t sure where it came from, having heard Natsume’s human name only a handful of times in passing. He seems incredibly ashamed now, already raising his hands to the level of his face in alarm.

“Oh, that--was so insolent of me, I’m so sorry, I--!”

“ _What_.”

“Huh?”

Tsumugi’s eyes, shut from shock, blink up at Natsume, whose surprise seems to have turned into….neutrality? Acceptance? Another mysterious expresion, if anything, though he’s not even looking directly at him, making it harder to tell.

If Tsumugi dared to guess, he’d call it sheepishness.

“You called me,” Natsume starts, arms folded. He looks down at Tsumugi after fixing his look into something a lot more annoyed. “You have my attention now. What do you _want_.”

For a moment, Tsumugi seems to forget. It was something about him not deserving any attention or special treatment, that he could get by on his own as long as he had the hay to lay in from the basement and books to read, but Natsume’s attitude fills his head with new, nicer thoughts; that maybe he could give a life like this a go if it got him more moments of this--of people being people, not Oracles and assassins and cursed children and such--just Tsumugi and Natsume and now even Sora, three strangers who could be more than their titles. That just maybe, despite not deserving any of this, he couldn’t help but wanting to at least try.

If anything, Tsumugi has already been a criminal. Going against normality and what he truly deserves is kind of his norm at this point, so doing it more can’t hurt, right?

He only shakes his head a bit before smiling at the Oracle, small and true and, for the first time, grateful.

“...Nothing, I just wanted to thank you. For everything.”

 

\---

 

“Sir Tsumugi would give the local fishermen a run for their money, that was an amazing catch today!”

“You learn a thing or two from a long stay in a merchant ship, haha...”

Fresh seafood nearly every day would be sickening by now to most, but Tsumugi has to admit he likes having a routine.

It’s a little before noon for the next day, way past a prime hour for fishing, but the side of the beach that is covered by the Oracle’s barrier is so well protected that even the fish that wind up there seem to be better preserved than what most merchants find around the area--so every day is a bit of a surprise. Sora smiles up at Tsumugi as they make their way to the hut, carrying his share of the morning catches in solidarity of Tsumugi’s inability to make things levitate yet.

“Sora is so glad you decided to join him after so long, Sir!”

“So am I...sorry I took so long, rather.”

“It’s alright! Sora is happy to have some company for fishing--ah, could we have some of what we caught for breakfast?”

“Well...you usually divide the rations, so you tell me.”

Sora grins bigger.

“Yes, but Sora wants Sir’s help this time around! Sora feels it will be a special day.”

“Do you, now?” Tsumugi chuckles lightly, “That being the case, I don’t see why not...let’s make sure not to finish all the good findings so that Natsume-kun may have some when he eats on his own.”

Sora blinks up in surprise, and Tsumugi raises his eyebrows.

“Did I say something strange?”

“Does Sir call Master by name now…?”

“Ah-” Tsumugi’s cheeks go red, “No, I just--it slipped! I know my place, of course, so please don’t tell him--”

The boy’s laughter is so merry Tsumugi can’t even feel too bullied by it. He simply sighs, wondering if it was worth to even ask him to keep quiet about it. Seems like embarrassing himself in front of Sora is going to be his thing.

By the time they make it to their door, Sora has thankfully laughed enough to tire himself out of it. Tsumugi expects to just help Sora cook and get on with his day in order not to bother Natsume when he decides to have breakfast, but the sight he gets when he opens the door changes his plans. Sora’s grin somehow gets bigger.

“Master!”

And there he sits, regal as ever. Natsume doesn’t really look at either of them from the dining room, table already set for three.

“...You’re both _late_.”


	5. Fitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thinking about change is one thing, but actually going through with it is another.

Tsumugi isn’t surprised at all that the first chance he’d get to interact with someone besides Natsume and Sora, he’s been asked--or rather, _ordered_ \-- to stay in the basement.

Though he doesn't really question Natsume’s decision, he wonders about it. After being alone with his thoughts for a bit, it clicks a little better that maybe it has something to do with the fact that Natsume-the _Oracle_ \- is giving shelter to a wanted criminal.

...Oh.

As soon as the idea is in, it pesters him. He wonders now if his status is already known enough in this side of the continent to be required to hide from plain sight. It makes him even antsier to remember that there is a world outside the barrier and that just existing in it is problematic, but at the same time, he realizes just how lucky he is to have been welcomed inside the hut so easily and without judgement.

So at the end of the day, the time he spends on the hay reading--now with a candle, mind you, is greatly spent, even if with slight paranoia he has to deep-breathe away.

A little less than an hour later, Tsumugi hears knocking. He doesn’t look up from his latest read when he answers the sound, too engrossed to even think about it.

“Yes?”

The door opens, and in comes little Sora, pushing at the wooden handle with both of his hands. He addresses Tsumugi with an excited smile.

“Lord Itsuki just left a bit ago, Sir!”

Oh, Natsume never mentioned a lord... That explains a lot. Tsumugi just nods at the book, still reading.

“Ah, already? I’ll be out in a bit then, thank you.”

Sora laughs nervously.

“Sora wouldn’t try that right now….Sora was actually wondering if he could keep Sir company for a little while?”

That finally makes Tsumugi look up curiously.

“Alright...I don’t mind, but did something happen?”

Sora walks into the room with a bouncy step, making a big show to take a peek at the book on Tsumugi’s lap before answering.

“Not really...first of all, though, is Sir still looking at yesterday’s lesson?”

Tsumugi laughs at himself, patting the space next to him to allow Sora to sit and look at the pages properly.

“Yes, I couldn’t help myself...I know yesterday only proved I’m not in a casting stage just yet, but I can’t help but want to try it still.”

“Sora thinks it’s wonderful that Sir is trying at all!”

“Thank you, let’s hope I can eventually do this…” He sighs.

It’s a bit naive for someone so late in life to attempt something as time and energy-consuming as actual magic, but it’s not like there’s much more to do with his time besides the chores he shares with Sora and Natsume. It’s even harder not to want it when the two are such eager teachers, though for entirely different reasons. Whereas Sora is encouraging and sweet, he’s naive and can’t explain himself properly, while Natsume either gives him too little or too much to do, always keeping the insults and scolding at a far greater rate than the praise.

Either way, Tsumugi can’t complain. He sort of gets it, anyways; everyone is doing all they can with what they have, and it’s only natural for him to follow through as well. He smiles down at Sora, attempting to forget his failings for the time being.

“So, what actually brings you here, how was Lord Itsuki’s visit?”

Sora’s happy expression turns into something a little more thoughtful. He hums before answering.

“Not very eventful…Master is feeling fickle right now, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yes...” Sora looks around, as if making sure he’s not being spied, and then motions for Tsumugi to lend his ear. Once there, he whispers. “Don’t tell Master Sora told, but Master gets really _sulky_ for a while after the lords leave…”

“The lords--”

“Shh!”

“Sorry--!” Tsumugi clears his throat, and talks just as quietly as Sora is, “So the lords…?”

“Mhm--” Sora nods very seriously. “Lord Hibiki, lord Shinkai and lord Itsuki…”

The names on their own don’t really ring bells to him, but another word he’s heard a lot during his stay comes to mind right then.

“Oh. The _niisan_ he always talks about, they’re all different people…?”

Sora nods again.

“Yes...they’re the ones who keep Master here and visit, but not very often! They’re all very busy and important men.”

Tsumugi nods along as well--he has to admit he wonders every now and then what kind of people would fill the thoughts of someone as unpredictable as Natsume, but asking has always felt a little too out of the question, when even coming across his name and age had been such an ordeal. He’s a lot more into the conversation than he thought he was, though, now even making his own theories.

“So I suppose he resents them for keeping him here and that’s why the visits make him irritable?”

There’s a giggle at that.

“On the contrary! Master loves them all very much.”

Tsumugi just blinks.

“He’s... capable of loving people besides you?”

The question comes out so biting yet so sincere that Sora’s giggles get even louder, much to Tsumugi’s bewilderment. The boy lightly hits Tsumugi’s arm, smiling ear to ear, and talks in loud whispers.

“Sir, please, Sora’s trying to be quiet here!”

“Sorry, it’s a legitimate question, I swear-!”

This time, Sora actually looks over at the door to make sure they hadn’t attracted Natsume’s attention yet. When he makes sure, he addresses Tsumugi again.

“Well… to answer Sir’s question, yes,” Sora starts, “Master loves the lords a lot! But they only come around very rarely, almost always without notice, and they leave just as suddenly, so even Sora hasn’t seen them much…”

The more Sora talks, the more sense Natsume’s situation and view makes sense to Tsumugi. the Oracle is young, after all. Human or not, it seems likely that he’d also have a background that involved others like him; a family. And thinking that this family of his is so well loved yet so busy and fleeting for somebody as lonesome as Natsume looked...Tsumugi nods again, truly understanding now.

“Oh, so the reason he gets irritable…”

Sora’s smile is gentler.

“Yeah...it’s because Master gets lonely since he misses them...so Sora gives him time whenever a lord leaves.”

 _That’s kind of endearing_ , Tsumugi thinks to himself. He’s sure if he says it out loud, though, Sora might either laugh again or spill to his master--and he likes his life without curses, thank you very much.

That aside, there’s not much more to be said once they both know what they’re talking about, and it makes Tsumugi all that more impressed with Sora’s maturity. He reaches to pat the boy’s shoulder.

“Okay...thank you for telling me. I’ll also do my best not to bother him whenever this happens.”

It is to be mentioned that Sora’s eyes are full of delight whenever he gets any praise like this, and this is one thing Tsumugi isn’t so ashamed to also find endearing. The boy shows him a toothy grin.

“Thank _you_ for listening, Sir! We can hide out together whenever Master gets grumpy, lords or not!”

“Mhm...That sounds like a plan.”

\---

Sora had been called out of the room first, and Tsumugi takes this time alone to keep his studying going. He figures that once he’s done he can join his housemates upstairs, but loses track of time trying and failing to make an old quill levitate. He thinks he’s making it shake for a moment, but his hopes all come crashing down when it’s nothing but Natsume approaching and suddenly opening the basement door, looking just as displeased as Sora said he was.

Tsumugi, of course, yelps on sight at the startle. Natsume squints.

“What are you _doing_.” He asks, more venom in his voice than usual. Tsumugi takes the quill and hides it behind his back despite knowing full well that Natsume had already seen it. He laughs nervously.

“Err, it’s yesterday’s--”

“You know what, I do not care right now,” Natsume interrupts, his eyes cast down, “Just come up already, the sun is _setting_.”

“Ah--” Tsumugi stammers, already losing sight of Natsume, who excuses himself out of the room without another word. He puts his book and instruments back in place before following Natsume, him so hurried and Natsume in such a slump they actually reach the dining room at the same time. It takes all his might not to ask if something’s the matter, but he already knows the answer because of Sora and that it's not like Natsume will ever say what he's actually thinking, anyways.

Once upstairs, Tsumugi is surprised to see that the table is full--not with food, but with fabric and jewelry. Sora greets at him from a chair, briefly looking to him to wave before turning back to what looks like pretty clumsy sewing. Tsumugi approaches the table with wide eyes, fingers instantly reaching for a luscious piece of red silk. He looks back at Natsume, questioning.

“These are….?”

“My words are not empty,” Natsume says, still not looking at him. “I said I’d ask for textiles, and so I _did_.”

Tsumugi looks between him and the silk in his hands, seeming mildly horrified that the incredible fabric was meant for clothes that he was supposed to wear.

“These must’ve been a fortune.”

A scoff.

“Not for me. I ask for what I know is at my niisan’s _reach_.”

_It still looks so expensive..._

Though Tsumugi wants to protest, Natsume’s expectant glance places a lot of pressure on him, and now he has Sora’s excited eyes on him as well, making matters even more awkward; it’s like he and Natsume are waiting for his gratitude, but all he can feel is inadequacy and huge knots in his throat.

“I, ah…”

When he doesn’t finish his sentence, Sora’s hand gently reaches for his.

“It’s alright, Sir,” He says, smiling, “We still have to make clothes out of this, and that work will be ours!”

Natsume sighs as he makes way for the table as well, picking up some pieces of fabric himself.

“It is not as if you need to think or anything, anyway. I could provide Sora with an entire wardrobe on my own when he first got to be in my care, so you will not be much of a _challenge_.”

Sora nods along to this, excited. Tsumugi wants to be nice about this and to go along as he has so far with all of their care, but the thought has him a little speechless at the moment. It still seems to be his turn to speak, but the more he wants to protest, the less he can. No matter how open his mouth is, words don’t come out.

...Oh,this is bad. The clothing that would be made would go to him, so unworthy not only in birthright, but by common sense alone; none of this belongs to him. It shouldn't. This is all way more befitting of Natsume and Sora, and worse yet, this brings back memories of garments of Eichi's--what he'd wear, what King Leo wore, everybody important and worthy, _everybody_ but Tsumugi.

Just looking at the table for long is enough to bring him back to his reality after so much time deluding himself, back to a time and a place where he knows the truth; that he's lesser than even a pauper, poorer than poor: he is a criminal, and pretending he's anything but that only drags him further down.

_How disgusting..._

As he continues to spiral down silently, he can faintly feel Sora squeezing his hand.

“...Sir?”

It takes a bit for Tsumugi to squeeze back, if barely. Natsume glances from the corner of his eye as Tsumugi finally talks back, quiet as a mouse.

“...I can’t accept these. I’m sorry.”

“Wha--” Sora’s expression falls. Whatever color surrounded Tsumugi at the moment, it didn’t seem like a good one. He reaches with his other hand as well, trying hard to be comforting. “Why is that so, Sir?”

“I don’t deserve these,” Tsumugi says, flatly, “I can work with spare old material to make some things for myself, but...not with these. They’re not meant for me.”

"But Sir..."

"I mean it. I can't."

“Sir, it’s okay, Master and Sora usually get new fabric all the time, so--”

“ _Sora_.”

The boy falls silent when Natsume, now close to them both, gently presses a finger to his lips. His big blue eyes follow his master as he now looks only at Tsumugi, his expression unreadable. Despite having his eyes cast down, Tsumugi feels his eyes on him as well, strong as ever, and can’t really bring himself to return his look. He laughs humorlessly at himself.

“I know, I know... I wasted your time and the visit from the lord, huh?”

Natsume squints.

“No, that is not the case.”

“A scold, then…?”

Natsume raises his hand, and Tsumugi braces himself for a shove or a smack.

Instead, he simply feels the fabric leave his hands just as softly as if sand slipped through his fingers. His eyes widen when he finally looks at Natsume, and the Oracle stares up with…

Well, if Tsumugi didn’t know better, he’d call it remorse.

“You are right,” Natsume says, “maybe you don’t _deserve_ these.”

Though Tsumugi is given reason, his chest aches. He nods.

“Yes, thank--”

“However,” Natsume continues, eyes and expression a lot sharper. “You are also _wrong._ ”

“Eh…?”

Natsume turns around to leave the fabric back on the table, replacing it for earrings and ringlets for himself. He looks over his shoulder at Tsumugi, eyes narrowed.

“They _are_ meant for you.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before walking into his room with his new jewelry, clearly too annoyed to stick around any longer.

\---

The rest of the day is uncomfortable.

Though Sora understands Tsumugi’s discomfort with the fancy fabrics, it doesn’t stop him from feeling guilty and like things have reversed from their steady, nice state back into the way things were when Tsumugi first arrived into their lives. Tsumugi is no different, feeling nothing but guilt at himself but attempting to use his time to Sora to try and comfort him. He tried to convince the boy that he just needed to sit down and think what he’d do about his wardrobe situation. Even Sora's good cheer doesn't seem to come as easy as it usually does, his smile tired and trying as he listens and tries to understand the motives behind Tsumugi's stubborness.

When the sun sets, the boy decides to retire into his room as well to rest, and Tsumugi is left alone with his thoughts--and with the fabric.

He sighs before he walks over to the table, running his fingers through the textures mindlessly.

“...Meant for me, huh….”

It sounds just as ludicrous out loud as it does in his head.

...Though, now that he can dwell on it in silence...his feelings are a lot more mixed now. Despite saying what was so true and obvious, Sora and Natsume do have a lot to be upset about, don't they?

Natsume did go through the trouble of ordering enough fabric for many clothes for someone Tsumugi’s size, and he probably had to be sneaky about it in order for Lord Itsuki not to suspect anything. As for Sora, well. Just making someone like Sora frown is enough to make anyone feel bad.

Tsumugi stares down thoughtfully at the materials, and a silvery glisten catches his attention. He hisses slightly when, upon trying to grab what he thought was a pin, ends up pinching the tip of his finger with a sewing needle, perhaps Sora’s. Even with his poor eyesight, he can spot a bit of red bubbling up his pale skin, and he can’t do anything but sigh at the sight and suck at the droplet of blood before it starts dripping.

His shoulders slump. If the universe wasn’t done telling him how big a fool he was, it certainly feels like it now. For a moment, he considers picking everything up to take to Sora’s room, but it feels more like getting rid of the situation than actually managing it. Doing this in Natsume’s room is, of course, even more out of the question.

If anything, he can tidy up for now. So when he feels his focus on the injury is gone, he finally gets a better look at the table. Not only is Sora’s sewing needle there, but the whole garment he was working on; a tunic. He stretches it with his hands, unsurprising little mistakes all over, but Tsumugi feels overall endeared with the effort. More when he noticed that it was a too big for Sora and just about roughly his own size.

Natsume’s words ring even clearer now, and he can’t help but smile to himself, if just a little.

He stares at the sewing equipment for just a bit longer before picking a candle up. Taking everything needed for an all-nighter is going to take a lot of trips, but he can’t let the motivation go now.

\----

Sora sighs at his ink for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Are my lessons boring you?” Asks Natsume, a lot less cynical than his words would imply. Sora looks up to shake his head.

“No, sorry...Sora is just worried. Sora is used to Mater being the one to hide inside his room, but Sir…”

Natsume scoffs.

“First of all, I do not _hide_ , I enjoy and need my alone time very much.” He says, squinting to the side. “Second, we do not really know that man enough to tell what is normal for him, that I have learned _now_.”

“But the colors around Sir were so... _sad_.” Sora dips the tip of his quill into ink, a deep blue, and lets it drip over his scroll mindlessly. “Or...sadder than usual, maybe. Sora feels like Sir is hurt.”

“He is the one who hurt _himself_.” Natsume quickly says. When he looks back at Sora, his apprentice's eyes are wide as they seem to be looking around him. Natsume scrunches his nose at him, aware of what that expression means.

“...What is it, what do you _see_?”

“...Master is hurt as well, is he not?”

“Wh--” Natsume clears his throat and stands up, seeming the slightest bit indignant. “That is--so _silly_ , I cannot believe--”

"No, it's understandable...Lord Itsuki did leave so soon, and then for this to go wrong too..."

"Sora, _please_ ," Natsume inches closer, a _lot_ more indignant, "there is no need to say these _assumptions_ out loud so easily-"

“Oh." Sora blinks to steady himself, remembering the usual--people, even Natsume, don't like hearing this kind of thing. He laughs slightly before addressing him with gentleness. "Sorry, but...Master, it’s okay… Sora knows Master’s had a hard time as well. That's all Sora really wanted to say.”

Natsume wants to deny it, but when he opens his mouth, no words come out. He closes his hands into fists and sits back down, sighing heavily. No matter what he has to say, Sora already knows the truth. When the boy reaches to pat his shoulder for comfort, he lets him, defeated.

“There is just no winning against you, is _there?_ ”

“No,” Sora smiles, gently, “but Sora doesn’t like winning. Sora likes it when things are alright.”

The corner of Natsume’s mouth turns up a little. It’s not a feeling he relates to, but he can certainly understand it.

The lesson is about to be dismissed until the two are startled by a soft but sudden knock on Natsume’s door.

“Ah!” Sora goes, eagerly standing up, “Sir?”

“Yes, am I interrupting?”

The way Tsumugi calls back is so surprisingly stable Sora and Natsume actually exchange a look of surprise before Sora replies.

“Um--no! Is that right, Master--?”

“ _What do you want._ ” Natsume calls directly at the door, arms crossed. Sora hides a laugh at the sudden change in character. A little yelp is heard from the other side of the door, making it harder for Sora to keep a straight face.

“What an unwelcoming tone….!” Tsumugi calls, shaky. Natsume just rolls his eyes.

“Well? We are waiting. What do you _want_?”

“Well, um…” Tsumugi takes a breath, “I have something to give the two of you, but if you’d like me to leave it on the dinner table I can do just that…”

Silence. Sora just looks up at Natsume hopefully. The Oracle is glaring so hard at the door he could practically pierce through it.

Instead of saying anything, though, Natsume just takes the handle and opens the door.

What he and Sora see first is, of course, Tsumugi yelping again at the sudden movement, trying hard not to drop the folded pieces of fabric in his arms.

Tsumugi looks different, though:

Instead of the ragged undershirt and pants he’d been wearing for so long, he now has quite a lovely outfit-- new and fitting trousers, dark boots and gloves to match, a shirt with an elegant neck and an open turquoise tunic with golden trims. His long hair is now combed and held into a low ponytail, and his overall expression framed by such nice clothing just seems cleaner and healthier in contrast. It is almost as if a different man stands before them.

While Sora looks thrilled by this change and even audibly gushes about it, Natsume takes several steps back at once, eyes wide as if a monster stood before him. Tsumugi laughs sheepishly at them both, scratching the back of his neck as he does so.

“That's what I call reactions…”

“Sir, you look so handsome!!" Sora practically runs to him, overjoyed, "Was this what you were doing these past days? Sora had no idea Sir could make clothes this elaborate--and the colors you chose!”

“Well… I had to learn from a very young age, so I sort of never forgot.” He laughs. “You gave me quite a bit to think about when we talked about colors, also…”

Though Natsume doesn’t seem to get what they talked about, Sora’s smile is worth a thousand words. Tsumugi extends his arms to show the fabrics to Sora. “And this is what I wanted to give to you two, starting with you.”

“Silk?”

Tsumugi shakes his head. “This one on top is yours, Sora-kun. It’s a cape.”

There are stars in Sora’s eyes as he practically snags away the yellow cape. He runs to Natsume’s mirror, gasping in awe at as soon as he puts it on it-it’s simple, but the buckles on the shoulders give it such a heroic image he can’t help but feel like a young adventurer. He turns to Natsume and Tsumugi, excited.

“This is so good, Sir! Sora loves it!”

“I’m glad...it looks quite good on--”

Tsumugi’s interrupted by Sora practically throwing himself to his chest. He stumbles back a little, thankful his reflexes are not quite dead already; were he more off guard, he’d probably have been thrown onto his back.

Laughing awkwardly, he’s not quite sure what to do with his hands, and when he looks at Natsume for help, he expects the glare he sees right away; what he doesn’t is for the Oracle to be making little motions with his hand as he glares. Something that, if put together, reads kind of like….

_Return the gesture or I shall curse you, ingrate!_

So he does just that, awkwardly patting the boy's back. Sora giggles at the positive reaction, even if slow. He looks up at Tsumugi with a grin.

“Thank you again, Sir!”

“That’s alright...I’m really glad you liked it so much.”

When Sora finally lets go, he seems to be somewhat amused, and it takes Tsumugi no time to figure out why: now Natsume stood directly in front of him, arms crossed and his expression somewhere between expectant and judging. Tsumugi remembers his other gift only now, so distracted by Sora’s gesture he only now realizes it’s by his feet right now.

“Ah, clumsy me--” He stammers, kneeling down. His expression relaxes when he sees nothing is missing, and though Natsume’s eyes are intimidating as ever, he manages a little smile when he stands up and extends his hand to present a small offering, fingers closed around it.

“I couldn’t decide what garment you don't own already since you have such an array of beautiful clothes and jewels so it might not be too much, but…”

“On with it,” Natsume says, extending his hand. “Let your little trinket speak for _itself_.”

With a nod, Tsumugi finally opens his hand and lets the gift slip into Natsume’s hand; a bracelet.

Just as Tsumugi had said, it’s not much. It’s not even particularly pretty, most prominent in the lime green string holding the whole design together. The nicer parts are the ornaments, though; which Natsume notices while dangling the bracelet it in front of his face; blue and yellow crusts of jewelry adoring real shells from the beach just outside the hut. He lowers it again, just in time to catch Tsumugi’s sheepish expression.

“Again, I know it’s not much, but…”

Natsume doesn’t cut him off with a hug, but his extended hand showing the gift back to Tsumugi.

The man thinks for one sad moment that this means disapproval; that it really wasn’t a good enough gift, but Natsume’s words are surprising.

“What are you waiting for? I cannot tie it on my _own_.”

Now it’s Tsumugi’s turn for his eyes to widen.

“You liked it-??”

A scoff.

“Do not get ahead of yourself. We are _even_ now.” Natsume glares, though it’s hard to take his expression seriously when Tsumugi can clearly see Sora giggling behind him. Surely seeing some warm, happy colors surrounding his master makes him this happy?

“Sorry, but what do you mean?”

“Is it not _clear_?” He rolls his eyes, annoyed. “We gave you clothes, you gave us gifts. It would be _rude_ not to accept them.”

Oh, speaking of rude.

Tsumugi’s expression softens.

“Speaking of that...I didn’t react in the best of ways towards your own gift on the first place, did I?”

“You most certainly did _not_.”

Tsumugi sighs.

“Well...I’m sorry. I can’t say I understand why you’d go out of your way like that for someone like me, but...I really appreciate it.”

After a moment, Natsume scoffs. He probably wasn't expecting an apology this late in the game, and though he doesn't look particularly happy or surprised, he's visibly a lot less tense.

“You are not _meant_ to understand me, anyway.”

That's probably Natsume-speak for "apology accepted".

With that, Tsumugi thinks he’s done speaking, but Natsume surprises him while, looking to the side, he speaks up again.

“And either way…my own assumptions were not accurate.” He says, somewhat quiet. “I should have known it was too great a gesture to start for someone so lowly.”

To make sure he’s not imagining this, Tsumugi turns to Sora. The boy is just as appalled, though he seems happier than surprised. In a quiet moment of understanding, he nods enthusiastically at Tsumugi, as if encouraging him to accept Natsume's own version of an apology, insult and all.

“It’s--quite alright, don’t worry!” Tsumugi says, chipper. “After all, there’s no way of telling just how lowly me and my reactions will be, right?”

...Well, that was a fast return to the usual.

Natsume’s softer expression immediately turns back to its signature scowl, and Sora can’t help a tiny sigh.

“Whatever--you are _infuriating_.” Natsume says, shoving his hand back in front of Tsumugi, “Wipe that smile off your face and put the damn thing on me already, will _you_??”

He doesn’t stop smiling, but he still ties the bracelet with pleasure.

Maybe one day they’ll be able to talk more than one sentence without misunderstandings...

But then again, it’s not them without those, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOY i feel 15 again writing fic /and/ having energy to actually work it into my daily life again despite it being like, working adult like aaaaa! 
> 
> i wanna take this chance to say thank you to all the wonderful people giving me the time of day by reading this extremely niche extremely specific thing im doing here...i havent felt my writing be so loved and accepted in so long and im gonna do my best to keep this going till the end!! also if you happen to have a twitter please please check this beautiful fan comic out, it depicts a scene from ch 2 so perfectly i still cant believe it even exists vkfd shoutout to taya go lookie here here here here if you havent!! --> https://twitter.com/clanleaderanjou/status/1037072792456495104
> 
> anyhow thank you again for reading!! seeya next chapter <333


	6. Resolve

_“You--!”_

Tsumugi knew Leo Tsukinaga a lot more than one could give him credit for. He knew what the red-headed looked like as a teen, what snacks he liked, what he’d do for fun, how his nose would scrunch when he laughed, how his smile reached his eyes whenever he was truly happy, how little he cared for logic and whose company he enjoyed the most...it was almost as if they were friends.

Maybe they once were, in retrospect.

The Leo before him, though, is not the one he knows:

The person in front of him, kneeling while holding the bleeding body of a young man in his arms...he is no teen and he has no smile and no laugh. He is a king staring at an enemy, killing him over and over with his glare.

Their silent exchange lasts just a second, and Tsumugi sprints away from the scene. He has no idea what Leo looks like now, but the rage in his voice is unmistakable:

“What the hell are you all waiting for!” He yells at his men in the distance, “Kill him!! Bring him to me!!I want his head on a plate!! Nobody will rest until that man is dead!!”  

Tsumugi pants as he runs, too scared to pay actual attention to the mob following him close behind; all in his mind is the road ahead, where to turn and what to do to stay alive.

He doesn’t make it more than a few steps before he bumps into someone’s chest.

When he looks up, that person smiles down pleasantly.

“You look awful..." His voice is almost a tease. "I assume you got into some trouble.”

Tsumugi gasps.

Tall as ever, gorgeous and imposing, lord Eichi Tenshouin stares down at Tsumugi with a small smile. The sound of his voice alone is enough to nearly bring Tsumugi to tears--always a strange, overwhelming and confusing feeling. At the very least, he feels safer, hands flying to hold Eichi’s.

“Eichi-kun, thank the heavens--!”

Oh, he can’t even reach.

Eichi’s gloved finger is on lips as soon as he speaks, gentle enough to silence him and firm enough to hold him back entirely from moving at all. His expression, however, isn’t so gentle at all. Lovely blue eyes look down at Tsumugi with neutrality--not the look of a lover, but that of a cold and calculating scion. That very same finger Eichi used to silence him trails down his chin to push it up so that their eyes can meet properly.

 “You attempted murder on the king,” Eichi says, bluntly, “did you assume that was my request, Tsumugi?”

 “I--” Tsumugi goes, voice shaky. Eichi stares on, expression unchanging.

 “Well?”

 The sense of safety he felt upon finding this one familiar face shatters all at once, replaced now with panic bubbling at the very pits of his stomach.

 “Y-You told me so--”

 Eichi simply shakes his head.

 “A wish and a command are two vastly different things, you know.”

 “I know that!” Tsumugi exclaims, but quickly looks down, embarrassed, feeling his eyes watering and having his shoulders shaking with fear and anger and sadness all at once. “I know that well, but I…”

 “You…?”

 “I…” He bites his tongue. There really is no reasonable excuse for his actions, but there’s no way he can just tell him. “I don’t know what you want me to say....”

 Eichi doesn’t seem surprised to be asked as much, but he still clicks his tongue. It seems he tells himself he should’ve known he would be explaining everything to Tsumugi.

 “Let me put it simpler still, then…” He’s stalking slower and severe, “Why did you really do it?”

 “Oh…”

 He couldn’t have asked a harder question to answer, but Tsumugi doesn’t voice this sentiment. Eichi remains unmoving.

 “I’m waiting.”

  _I just wanted to make you happy,_ Tsumugi thinks, _I just wanted to get it right._

 But he says nothing, as usual.

 After waiting a few moments for a reply, Eichi can only sigh, disappointed. He lets go of Tsumugi’s chin, taking a few steps back while looking directly at him. Tsumugi’s heart sinks.

 “Eichi-kun…”

 “Wrong answer as always, my bluebird.”

 It’s been ages since Tsumugi heard that name.

 Despite it being used with such a firm and final voice, he can feel his heart flutter faintly, and he feels pathetic about it. He looks up after the initial shock, desperate to realize the meaning of this all.

 “Then tell me already, please-”

Instead of replying, Eichi looks down at him. He glances at the floor on a whim, which is Tsumugi’s only warning before the ground beneath them crumbles to turn into a stormy ocean. Tsumugi slips and splashes right into it, eyes wide with horror as Eichi manages to stay standing above the water, perfectly dry on top of a square of land right under his feet, as if made only for him.  Tsumugi opens his mouth to yell for help as he’s already underwater, his body incomprehensibly heavy and unable to move; his voice is muffled with nothing but bubbles coming out and water entering right into his throat.

Somehow, he can still see Eichi clear as day, who only looks back with actual and real sadness. He waves goodbye at him from the safety as Tsumugi sinks deeper and deeper into the darkness.

“See you someday, Tsumugi.”

He wakes up with a start.

 

\--

Later that night, Tsumugi sees no real way to fall back asleep.

It’s strange and perhaps a little alarming, but it’s not really that he’s too disturbed by the dream to go back to bed--he’s unimpressed at this point, just tired. The scare stays only for a moment before he goes back to remembering the usual to cope; that he has no rhyme or reason for his actions, that there is not any way to forgive himself to his past and that he just has to live like this.

Some nights it’s just...tougher to remember, is all.

He sits up, thinking clearly of the differences to dreams from previous nights, because of course he's had this scenario in mind practically since the very night he failed to kill Leo; flashbacks to that very moment, Eichi's questioning--the whole deal, only sometimes in different perspectives. The biggest difference this time around has to be the name ‘bluebird’, though--the one that actually hurt. That one name that differentiated him from Leo, the one that made him feel real and important, to believe he was his own person and not just a stand-in--

Tsumugi sighs to cut himself short, now the slightest bit uneasy, and rises to his feet. He considers reading to distract himself, but the heat of the summer night and the sweat from his nightmare make it very difficult to want to stay inside the basement--so out he goes, quietly stepping out into the hallway and the stairs and, in a quiet impulse, out of the hut.

Once outside, Tsumugi’s surprised by how noisy the beach sounds at night and without the protection of the walls of the house. Not only are the waves crashing with their usual strength, but the nearby woods buzz with the sounds of crickets and gentle rustling leaves, all as if life had come into the blue and green of the scenery right as everything else slept. To top it all, the glow of the barrier is made with such powerful magic that it emits the kind of hum that, once noticed, can never really be ignored.

Tsumugi walks into the beach, shoes off to feel the cool sand under his feet. He can lightly smell and taste salt in the air, a scent he never thought he’d get used to after a childhood in the kingdom of Finheim; not after the closest he’d ever get to the ocean were the fishermen he sometimes saw and cleaned for in the streets near his first home. What would a younger him think of his current situation?   

 Before he knows it, Tsumugi’s already close enough to the water that he actually needs to step back and roll his pants up in order not to get his clothes wet. He sits down and takes in a deep breath, ready to relax with nothing but himself and his thoughts.

 “A lovely view, is it not?”

 ...Or so he thought.

The unfamiliar voice not only startles, but downright horrifies Tsumugi. Many facts about it hit him all at once; that this is not Sora or Natsume, that it’s the middle of the night, and most importantly, that whoever this person was, they were inside the powerful barrier that was supposed to keep the hut from intruders.

Of course, Tsumugi yelps instead of answering, so surprised he almost falls backwards into the sand. On an old instinct he reaches for his hip, where his dagger pouch would usually be, but panics further when he feels nothing. At this, the stranger kneels next to him to hold his shoulders to keep him steady.

“Oh, dear. It wasn’t my intention to frighten you so, my friend!”

“Friend--??” Tsumugi blinks up, squinting both for the darkness and his eyesight. For the first time, he wishes he had his glasses already.

What he can see, though, without much need for perfect eyes, is that this stranger is a man. A beautiful one, at that, with lavish and long cerulean hair and curious violet eyes. Something about him rings as cheerful as Sora, but as mysterious as Natsume. Tsumugi frowns a bit.

“I’m...sorry, but have we met?”

The man hums, still holding his shoulders firmly.

“Not that I recall.”

“Um.” Tsumugi casually slips away from the hold, still staring at the man with confusion. “Then... why did you call me your friend?”

This only makes the man laugh, merry and seemingly uncaring of Tsumugi’s suspiciousness.

“You’re rather amusing! Do you usually take everything so literally?”

“Apparently,” Tsumugi retorts, glancing at the hut from the corner of his eye. He quickly figures that If this strange man was here to entertain him while intruders went into the house, this was his one moment to act.

“Ah,” Says the man, blinking in the same direction, “I have no business there right now, do not worry.”

“How did you--” 

“Enter the barrier?”

“No, but--” Tsumugi startles once more, “That--that too, yes, how did you do that?? And what do you mean _right now_ \--”

“I’d ask the same to you, but I think I know why.” He smiles pleasantly, extending his hand. “Let’s start over, though, you seem rather on edge.”

Tsumugi stares at him blankly, and then at his hand. He reaches to take it extremely cautiously.

“...You don’t know me, do you?”

The man shakes his head.

“Not personally, no. Why should I?”

A wanted poster is Tsumugi’s first guess. He doesn’t say as much, though, still holding on to the man’s hand with a loose grip.

“...No reason. Who are you?”

The man smiles, his grip, in contrast, so firm and enthusiastic it nearly hurts Tsumugi.

“Wataru Hibiki, at your service! And if you wish to remain anonymous, I can respect that.”

“Thank you, Hibiki--” Tsumugi’s eyes widen, and his thoughts take him to his talk to Sora from the other day. He takes back his hand, incredulous. “ _Lord_ Hibiki?”  

Wataru laughs-- loud and extravagant as his looks.

“Something like that!  I assume that came from word of mouth, right? Has my Natsume talked about me?”

The familiar name makes Tsumugi’s shoulders relax slightly.

“Na--um, the Oracle, I mean,” Tsumugi goes, now clearing his throat to wave off his insolence, “he speaks...very fondly of you, yes.”

This seems to please Wataru, though, who smiles and nods to himself.

“How wonderful...he never changes, I’m so glad. How’s little Sora-kun doing, he’s still practicing magic?”

“Mmhm...”

“What about you, are you a new apprentice of Natsume’s?”

“Erm…”

That’s...a good question, actually.

After the accommodations for the basement had been made to give Tsumugi an actual bed and furniture for his favorite books, it feels strange to not call it his room. Just the same as it feels strange to call himself not a guest; and he has no real reason why he should be anything more than that, given he has no blood relation to either of his housemates or how, despite learning magic from Natsume, he can’t really call himself his apprentice either. Wataru’s expectant glance isn’t helping either, and at the end Tsumugi can only really shrug at his question.

“I’m...not sure,” He says, finally. “I could be, I guess…?”

Wataru’s chuckle is quieter, but not less satisfied than his laughter.

“I see...what an interesting case we have here, then.”

“Sorry I can’t give you a straight answer.”

“That’s alright, that just means I get to ask again some other time.”

Tsumugi shrugs again, unconvinced. He stares at the sand, anxious and aware that any more time he spends with Wataru is more time to help him realize who exactly he is and how dangerous it would be for Natsume and Sora to house him any longer.

“It’s alright, you know.” Wataru says, suddenly, alarming Tsumugi once more.

“Ah--What’s alright?”

“That you’re so unsure of your standing right now.”

Though Tsumugi breathes easier that this isn’t about his old profession, he still stares at Wataru with confusion, surprised at the accuracy of his comment.

“And with that you mean…?”

Wataru’s smile is confident and friendly, something he hadn’t quite seen before.

“I mean that It’s just fine not to belong anywhere, even if you have somewhere you live at. You don’t have to belong anywhere to feel at home--you may have several homes, in fact.” He grins. “That’s just what yours truly does, after all.”

His talk doesn’t particularly hit close as he desperately does want to belong somewhere, anywhere, but Tsumugi still smiles a bit at Wataru’s advice. In a way, it sort of reminds him of what chatting with Sora is like, and that makes him feel just the slightest bit more at ease.

“Lord Hibiki...can you see colors?”

Wataru seems surprised with the question, and after blinking a bit at him, he chuckles again.

“My, not me.” He winks, “I just happen to have _amazing_ intuition.”

Tsumugi actually laughs a bit.

“I suppose it is…” He sits up straighter, and finally faces him. “So...what brings you here so late?”

“Oh, what _doesn’t_.” Wataru sighs, relaxed. He grabs at the sand beneath himself with both hands, seeming to just enjoy the texture under his fingers; “The Old Lands are just so...untouched, so natural. This beach in particular, too! I’m really happy this is where Natsume gets to spend every day, it is just _so_ beautiful. A little hot, yes, so it’s just perfect at night--I cannot get enough of this. I bet you can’t either if you’re here as well, am I right?”

“It’s honestly too noisy for me.”

A beat. Tsumugi frowns at himself--rude as always. He really needs to do something about this.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cut through your sentiment so bluntly--!”

Wataru is too busy laughing to really care. He reaches to pat Tsumugi’s shoulder enthusiastically; it makes him wince, but he doesn’t really do much avoid it.

“That’s quite alright! You sure are a blunt one, are you not? I bet the days must fly by having you and the wordy Natsume in the same house!”

“Ow I--hope so??”

Not really, but hey, at least the lord is happy. Wataru has his laugh and leans away to continue looking expectantly at Tsumugi.

“So tell me, why are you here right now if it is so noisy?”

Having nearly forgotten himself, Tsumugi’s expression softens when he actually remembers--ah, his nightmare. He sighs at Wataru, debating if he should tell him. He settles with a half-truth.

“I couldn’t sleep and my room was feeling hot, so I figured I might as well come freshen up...”

Wataru nods, seemingly already invested.

“How horrid! You could cast a sleeping spell on yourself, perhaps?”

“Oh…” Tsumugi laughs awkwardly. “No, heavens, no. Not even if I wanted. I can’t even make a quill rise in the air…I’m starting to think all I’m good at is retaining information.”

Wow, as if his usual train of thoughts wasn’t depressing enough. Wataru doesn’t seem to mind, though, only staring back thoughtfully.

“But you're learning magic right now as well, yes? Do you have any reason to learn magic?”

The question takes Tsumugi off-guard, but he still answers to the best of his abilities.

“....Well, it’s the best I can do with my time here…?”

Wataru clicks his tongue.

“That isn’t the kind of resolve you need, my friend!”

“You need a special resolve?”

“As anything in life, obviously!” Wataru smiles encouragingly. “Magic is, after all, nothing but that! Not a simple chant or information-it’s everything above and beyond that, had you ever considered that?”

It feels like a very obvious question, and Tsumugi is compelled to say that of course he has, but...in reality, that wasn’t the case.

Thinking clearly about it, casting magic feels more like a goal than a journey, to say so; like something he’d be satisfied to accomplish for nothing more than...well, accomplishing it. He supposes that, besides feeling good about getting to do something neat, he has no real reason to actually do it. He hums thoughtfully.

Wataru hums back, seeming very pleased with himself.

“Did I get it right, now?”

“I...think so.” Tsumugi says, quietly. He stares at the ocean, trying to put his thoughts together. “Basically, as long as I find out what I _really_ want to accomplish I’ll be able to...right?”

“And a little natural talent doesn’t hurt, either.” Wataru adds, with a wink. “I think you’ve got that part covered if you’re already that good at reading and retaining.”

Tsumugi, again, laughs awkwardly.

“I wouldn’t say that, but...I think I can try.”

“Good.”

It’s a little weird to admit, but despite being so flamboyant and bizarre, Wataru is right-- he _does_ have good intuition. Being unable to make progress with his studies is probably one of the things keeping Tsumugi up at night besides his memories, and who knows-maybe what he said about belonging isn’t as irrelevant as he initially thought. Maybe it can help him get the courage to answer the one question the Eichi from his dreams keeps on asking.

Maybe it’s all connected.

Sighing softly, Tsumugi turns to smile at Wataru, grateful.

“Thank you, I think I can go back and try to sleep again…”

Wataru returns the smile, satisfied.

“I’m very glad to hear! A fresh mindset will do your dreams good as well, I bet.”

“Hopefully.” He glances back at the hut. “Would you like to come in with me as well? I’m sure Sora-kun and the Oracle will be very happy to see you--in the morning, that is.”

For the first time, Wataru’s expression changes-his smile is now apologetic. He shakes his head.

“I’m afraid I’m just passing by...I was here to make a delivery. I was going to do that tomorrow, but it’ll be easier if I just give it to you and be on my way right now--I have somewhere to return to as soon as I can.”

Though Tsumugi understands the circumstances, he can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable with the idea. He leans forward, a little urgently.

“Wait...Can’t you follow your original plan?” He blurts out, “Natsume-kun will be devastated if he knows you were here but didn’t visit--”

“Don’t you mean the _Oracle_?”

“Ah--” Tsumugi shakes his head, though red at Wataru’s slightly amused tone, “That’s--not the point right now. Why won’t you see him?”

Wataru's smile turns sad.

“I wish I could, but...this is for my own sake as well.” He sighs. “I’ll stay longer than necessary if I see him. It always feels just awful to leave this place and there is much I need to do, so…”

“With all due respect, I think the least you owe him is a visit.”

Wataru blinks at Tsumugi, surprised at the bite in his tone. Tsumugi seems to notice this only after he says it, quickly backing down.

“I’m so sorry, I mean--” He stammers, “A-Again, with all due respect--”

Thankfully, Wataru responds to this in good cheer again, laughing.

“No need to apologize!” He says, between laughs, “Ah, I’m so glad someone like this is looking out for Natsume…”

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He takes a breath to calm down, and once again addresses Tsumugi apologetically. “Believe me, I do want to stay, but… I’m only doing this because it’s an important reason. Things are turning quite ugly in the capital, and I have to be there to take care of business and then fly elsewhere to see after a special someone.”

“...I thought you didn’t belong anywhere, though?”

Wataru shrugs. “It doesn’t mean I can’t make exceptions. I’m sure you understand what I mean.”

Oh, he does. Tsumugi's slumping shoulders are certain proof of it, if not for his defeated nod. Wataru reaches for his shoulder, firm and encouraging.

“It’s alright. I’ll be back as soon as I can, and I’ll spend plenty of time with you all. Maybe I can properly meet you then.”

“Alright...” He sighs. He’s not the one who should be hearing this, and knowing it makes his chest ache. He looks up at Wataru. “Where’s the delivery, anyways?”

Smiling, Wataru reaches into a handbag. It’s a curious one at that, looking small and delicate enough to only handle coins, but apparently spacious for several strange items that Wataru either tosses to the sand or rummages to a side, impressing Tsumugi with how long he takes to make his find.

“Finally, thank goodness!” He exclaims, after a bit. Tsumugi doesn’t even get to ask what it is, for Wataru cuts him off with his next action-- he places a new pair of glasses on the bridge of Tsumugi’s nose.

Wide-eyed, Tsumugi’s hands quickly move to adjust them properly over his ears, and, for the first in a very long time, the world seems clear. He looks around the beach, bewildered--even with the darkness of night time, it’s as if every grain of sand suddenly seemed to multiply and as if the forest had gained outlines inside its shadows. There’s a lot he wants to say to this brand new view, but as always, Tsumugi is not so eloquent:

“Oh.” He goes, simply. Wataru chuckles.

“They work like a charm, don’t they?”

“Yes, I--thank you.” He thinks of how little he deserves this, as usual, but he needs this kind of sight so badly he doesn’t go for it this time around--and much less after the whole deal with the textiles. “ Gods, this is so different--thank you so much.”

“You’re quite welcome!”

“How did you know these were for me, though?”

Wataru’s smile is sly.

“Well, I know my Natsume like the back of my hand, and he doesn’t need glasses. Sora-kun--no need to explain, we both know he sees even better than _well_ , right? So that only leaves you, my friend.”

Huh. It’s not exactly a difficult guess, but Tsumugi is impressed at the insight the careless lord has. Or seemingly careless, at least--he nods, understanding.

“Makes sense, yes…” His expression softens. “Does this mean you’re off, then?”

“I’m afraid so.”

They both finally get up, and when Tsumugi is about to help Wataru put all his items back into his bag, the lord stops him with a hand gesture. He simply opens his bag and, with a graceful wave, every single jewel and prop levitates straight into the bag so perfectly Tsumugi swears he never really stopped dreaming. He stares, amazed, and fixes his glasses as Wataru casually pats sand off his clothes.

“That’s impressive...”

“I know! _Amazing_ , no?” Wataru is about to close the bag, but gasps to himself. “Ah, silly me! I almost forgot.”

“Yes?”

“Please extend your hands.”

Tsumugi does so, and doesn’t expect the following; Wataru taps the bag twice, and out flying comes a single white dove. It sits on Tsumugi’s hands, cooing gently as it nestles. Tsumugi steps back a bit in amazement, but careful enough not to disturb the bird. He looks up at Wataru with wide eyes.

“How--???”

The lord laughs, satisfied.

“Don’t question magic so much, my friend! Just enjoy it.”

“Okay--” He looks at the bird, and carefully pets its head with a finger. “So this dove…”

“I want you to keep it- this is a very talented messenger of mine.” He leans in to point at its talon, “If you tie your letters right here and send it off at dawn, it will know where to go.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that! It doesn’t get lost, so your only concern should be distance--and that the other person replies quickly, of course.”

Tsumugi stares between Wataru and the dove, unsure of what to say. Such an useful and good gift to a complete stranger--it doesn’t make any sense.

“I...assume this is for the Oracle?” He tries, cautious.

But Wataru shakes his head, only confusing Tsumugi further.

“It will obey anyone, but I want _you_ to keep it, as I told you before.”

“I’m really grateful, but the glasses have been enough--”

Wataru turns on his heel, uninterested in Tsumugi’s protests. He raises his hand to wave, back turned to him.

“It’s alright, I’m sure you’ll need it most!”

Tsumugi looks down at the bird, who only breathes lightly and stays perfectly still on his hands. He’s about to thank Wataru once more, but the lord’s words stop him on his tracks:

“After all,” Wataru says, not looking at him, “I’m not so sure you’ll be able to see your friends and family in the capital or Finheim any sooner, will you?”

Tsumugi’s blood runs cold.

“Huh…?”

Wataru just turns to smile at him over his shoulder, ominous but cheerful.

“Don’t worry so much." He looks ahead, away from Tsumugi. "I hope your stay here is good, dear bluebird.”

Tsumugi doesn’t even get to answer before the lord leaves, just as sudden as he had appeared.

 

 -

 

Come next morning, the glasses and the dove resting on top of his bookshelf are all proof Tsumugi needs to realize that last night had indeed happened.

...And, of course, Natsume’s bedroom door slamming shut the moment he spots glasses on Tsumugi.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didnt initially plan on writing this chapter but it kinda......wrote itself tbh?? i thought of something similar but more as snippets of other chapters instead of like, a whole chapter do u feel me......either way im happy w how this one turned out n i hope every reader is too! the fun is just starting babeys ;)))


	7. Miscommunication

It’s not that Natsume is mad.

Really.

Absolutely.

Not the case at all.

No.

The right word is.. _.frustrated_. And maybe a _tiny_ bit upset. And _kind of_ annoyed. But not _mad_ , mind you, never mad, Natsume is _too_ mature for mad.

Regardless of definition, though, the reaction is the same in the end; crossed arms and his back to his door, eyes cast forward while glaring at nothing.

He just...doesn’t get it. He understands that Shu’s kingdom is in disarray at the moment and that the fact that he visited at all the other day was miraculous, that Kanata has duties with his people, and Rei is so out of the question he can’t even bring himself to mention him at all anymore, but _Wataru?_ Free-willed, spoiling, loving Wataru doesn’t even want to see him?

Natsume sighs, irritated. He knows thanks to the music and his visions that there are logical explanations behind it all and it’s not like he’s not loved anymore--that things were just starting to get serious after the attempt on king Leo’s life, that movements were beginning to be stirred all over the place, that everybody has a role to fulfill--but it doesn’t stop him for feeling forgotten despite being told over and over how precious and important he is.

At the end of the day, he always gets exactly why things have to be the way they are-he just comes to the conclusion that he seriously dislikes it. Being the Oracle can have its perks at times, but the isolation can get overwhelming.

That said, it doesn’t make all that much sense for Natsume to isolate himself further whenever this kind of thing happens, but...he has an image to protect. He knows that Sora will know exactly what he feels in a moment despite all the time it takes for himself to even notice it, and he knows very well that he’ll look at him with pity and treat him with more kindness than usual.

And now, besides that, there’s the fact that he also has to consider Tsumugi in the picture.

 _Fucking_ Tsumugi.

Just thinking of his face makes him even more irritated than he already is, but this time, for different reasons than when he first arrived in the hut; the fool seemed to have ways to manage being in his thoughts at all times, now.

Either way, Natsume’s feelings have shifted from distaste into... _something_. After seeing him every day and learning just how irritably and unhealthily selfless, strange and broken the man is, Natsume’s first thought is that he does still dislike him; but it doesn’t feel quite as right as when they first met. Now there’s the good things to consider too... his hard work, his attention to detail, his blunt but gentle disposition, how happy he makes Sora--

Ugh. If there’s anything an Oracle would hate, it’s not knowing things. Especially when this doesn’t happen at all with other people. He has no trouble showing appreciation when it comes to being alone with Sora and his mother and his brothers, Rei included, and his distaste is usually so easily conveyed as well, but when it comes to Tsumugi…

**_Knock, knock._ **

“Ah--” Natsume’s actually startled, the knock sounding especially loud right behind him. He hears a gasp from the other side of the door.

“I’m so sorry! Did I startle you?”

Tsumugi’s voice is _not_ what he needs to hear right now. He frowns at the door.

“State your _purpose_.”

“Well…” He clears his throat, nervously. Natsume can picture his fidgeting hands so perfectly it’s as if they’re face to face.

“ _Well?_ ”

“It’s afternoon by now,” Tsumugi tries, “Sora-kun and I wondered if you weren’t hungry?”

Oh. Natsume’s been so lost in his thoughts and feelings he hardly had time to think about food; and now that it’s on his mind, he can’t help but pay attention to his empty stomach.

...Which is probably what Tsumugi wants to hear. Natsume scoffs.

“A bold _assumption_.”

“Does that mean you want to come out to eat?”

“I said no such _thing_.”

He can hear Tsumugi sigh.

“Alright...we made a stew this time around, so please be mindful it’s going to go bad if you don’t eat it soon….”

Then, he hears Tsumugi stepping away from the door. For a moment, Natsume considers letting him get away and get the food by himself, but a strange impulse compels him to sigh as well before calling out.

“ _Wait_.”

He doesn’t even talk loud, but that’s enough for Tsumugi to stop.

“Yes?”

Natsume rolls his eyes, already scolding himself for his following words.

“Bring it here. I am not letting anything Sora did for me go _bad_.”

“I helped too, you know-”

“Just bring it before I change my _mind_.”

Tsumugi yelps before pretty much sprinting away to the kitchen, and Natsume wonders briefly how someone this mousy could ever do the unspeakable things he saw in his visions. It all probably tracks back to the blue-eyed lord, that Tenshouin man, and just thinking about him somehow annoys him even more than his interactions with Tsumugi. A feat, in all honesty.

He can tell Tsumugi is back by the warm and homely smell he notices.

“I have the food right here...”

That’s enough to make Natsume’s stomach growl. Thankfully Tsumugi doesn’t seem to hear it- or is respectful enough not to bring it up. Either way, he patiently waits for Natsume to say anything.

At the end, rather than saying anything, Natsume opens the door.

Or...part of it. Just enough to stick a hand out. Tsumugi can only stare.

“Um…”

“Silence.” Natsume points down, “Just put the stew on the _floor_.”

“Why?”

“I do not want to look at your face right _now_.”

Tsumugi blinks, and though puzzled, is worryingly understanding of such a statement.

“Oh. Alright.”

So he does as instructed, and the plate is levitated into the room. This should be enough to make Natsume feel childish, what with how he sits back down on the floor to eat, but he’s so convinced he has a good reason to do this he can’t even be bothered to think as much. Tsumugi stays still on the other side of the door, and his voice sounds sheepish now.

“Should I...leave, then?”

It would probably be for best, but…

“No,” Natsume goes, stirring his plate, “I will not let you off the hook so _easily_.”

“From what?”

Natsume eats a spoonful, and sighs. This might not be what he actually needs for the moment, but it’s not like he can go back on his words now.

“...I want to know about niisan.”

“Ah...”

There’s a little silence, and Natsume hears a little thump--Tsumugi must be sitting on the floor now, as well. Surprisingly, he laughs, puzzling the Oracle.

“What is so _funny_?”

“Nothing, pardon--” Tsumugi sighs happily, “I was just realizing… here I am again, sitting on the floor while having a conversation with you and some food. That seems to be a running theme between us.”

...Huh, that did happen. Natsume stares into the plate, thoughtful.

“That was a long time ago.”

“Yes, and you were the one who brought me food--even though I never asked for it, and here I am, bringing food for you after having to hear it as an order.”

“What are you trying to get at with such _cheeky_ commentary?”

Tsumugi chuckles again.

“Nothing, really...it was a nice gesture.” He hums. “I guess I just mean that this is nice. You can be very nice.”

The compliment lingers, and Natsume can do nothing but take it in--he’d already explained how everything he does has a reason, so it feels useless and tiresome to do it this time around. He eats in a weirdly comfortable silence before speaking up, briefly considering that the stew itself was just as nice as it smelled.

“...Where is Sora, anyways?” He asks, “He is usually the one who takes it up to himself to fetch me for _dinner_.”

“Resting...he was the one who asked me to come here, actually.”

“Did he say _why?_ ”

“Um…” His laugh is awkward. “He said I should also get used to your hiding and learn how to deal with it…”

Natsume frowns- one would think it irritates him that Sora finds these tantrums something to be used to, but it’s a lot more embarrassing than anything, and it’s not like he could’ve even expected Tsumugi to be subtle about this. His silence can’t be described as anything but pouty, and a nervous Tsumugi speaks up.

“A-Anyways, what did you want to hear about, again?”

“Right,” Natsume goes, all too eager to change topics, “I wanted to inquire about niisan...he is the reason you already have your glasses, is he _not_?”

“That’s right.”

Obviously. But not what Natsume really wants to hear--so he lets his plate down, next to him, and hugs his knees closer to his chest.

“...How did he seem to _you_?”

“Um--lord Hibiki? In general?”

“Yes, in all _senses_.”

“Well…” Tsumugi hums. “Very...unique. Bizarre but cheerful, surprisingly easy to talk to, even if he carried most of the conversation...he seemed in good health, too.”

Natsume nods to himself, and also hums. “Sounds like niisan, _alright_.”

“Is that all you wanted to know?”

Natsume pretends to think about it for a moment.

“What was your encounter like?” He asks, “I assume there must be a reason it was so short-lived.”

“You’re the one assuming now, huh?” Tsumugi says, a chuckle in his tone. Despite his annoyance at this, Natsume says nothing, allowing him to keep on talking. “Either way, you’re right...we had a very brief talk about the beach, and one thing led to another. Before giving me the glasses, we talked about my insomnia and how I could deal with it.”

“What, you still cry in your sleep?”

Tsumugi’s laugh is quieter.

“Just a little, I think…”

“...Hmm.”

“But, um-” Tsumugi continues, “lord Hibiki recommended magic. So I have that to think about, and--oh, I almost forgot…”

“What?”

Tsumugi says nothing for a bit, as if figuring out if he has permission to keep talking. Natsume notices, and gives a harsh knock to the door. The sudden noise makes Tsumugi yelp, and Natsume doesn’t really notice how he almost laughs at how easily that happened.

“What is it, then? On with _it_.” He repeats.

“Right-!” Tsumugi clears his throat, clearly gathering himself from the startle, “I received something else besides the glasses, is all-”

Oh.

Not what he wanted to hear, either--not only is he not visited, but _Tsumugi_ gets gifts?That’d be cause for another door slam--Natsume’s already in his room, though, so it’s not like he can get any more showy with his distaste with the situation, can he? He just scoffs--and for good measure, smacks the door again. Tsumugi yelps just as loud.

“So I suppose you hit it off _that_ well with niisan, is that it?”

“I-I don’t know!” Tsumugi stammers, “I’m sorry, I’m just as puzzled as you are-”

“ _Whatever_.” Natsume leans against the door in a huff, “What is it, anyways?”

“A dove…”

The Oracle expects to hear about a book or an expensive piece of jewelry, but Tsumugi’s actual answer is unexpected enough to knock an insult out of his thoughts and replace it with actual bewilderment.

“A _messenger_?”

"Yes, he said so himself…”

Natsume’s eyes widen in realization. If Wataru would think a guest is in need of a messenger bird, it might mean…

“I think niisan knows who you are--or where you come  from, at least.”

Tsumugi sighs.

“I thought so as well, but I’m not sure how...”

When a silence falls, Tsumugi braces himself for another knock on the door--punishment for his carelessness and getting found out so easily, but he gets nothing.

“Oracle?”

Surprisingly and after a rather long pause, Natsume ends up just shrugging to himself.

“Oh, _well_.”

“Huh?”

He goes on, ignoring Tsumugi’s alarmed tone.

“If he found out, he found out. I do not think he would find the need to tell Shu-niisan or Kanata-niisan, and if he does...well, I can deal with _that._ The barrier is not open to the public eye either, so there actually is not much to worry about... ” He scoffs. “After all, Shu-niisan is probably the only one who would be concerned at all by your _identity._ ”

“You’re not mad I was found out?”

“It would be silly to think I could just keep on fooling them forever, so perhaps this is for _best_.”

Saying “forever” so easily would imply keeping the assassin around just as long. Natsume notices as much right as he says it, and he goes on, annoyed at himself with such a choice of words despite being sure Tsumugi knows he doesn’t mean it. Or at least he hopes he knows as much. There’s never telling when it comes to him.

“ _Anyways,_ ” He continues, practically cutting himself short, “I suppose you have no real use for that dove if you already left everything behind.”

“Right…” Tsumugi laughs nervously, “A few names that I could contact popped into my mind, but I don’t think it’d be appropriate.”

Natsume has one guess.

“Not that I care, but I am curious to hear what would be so preposterous it would seem inappropriate by _your_ standards.”

This time, Tsumugi’s laugh is a little more genuine.

“I know, right? Get this, though...I thought of Ei--I mean--” The name lingers, as if he doesn’t know what to call him in front of somebody else.

Of course, Natsume frowns-that’s his guess, right off the bat.

“ _Tenshouin_.”

“Yeah--yes, him.” The sigh he breathes is so soft it gives Natsume an uncomfortable ache. “How do you know him?”

Besides Tsumugi's own memories, Natsume has a few personal references of lord Eichi Tenshouin that he rather hates thinking about; they all mostly come from years that, besides being rather bad on their own right, take him back to a time of his life where he was petty and immature.

(Even more than usual, but nobody would ever hear that from him.)

He groans a little, already annoyed.

“That man is no nobody, for starters.” Natsume answers, all too quick to jump on an opportunity to voice his distaste for the scion. “If you worked for somebody in Finheim who had to be sleazy and powerful enough to need an assassin, it had to be _him_.” The annoyance in his tone is accentuated with a grimacing expression, “Plus, being the Oracle helps one _know_ things. In your sleep, you told me a _lot_ more than I needed to know about your history with this man.”

“Oh- _Oh_.” Natsume can practically hear the blush in Tsumugi’s tone. “So besides everything professional you also know he and I….”

“Yes- I will _hurl_ if you go on, and I know why it would be a terrible idea to contact him.”

“Right-!” He clears his throat, “So that leaves him out of the question, yes-- he wanted me away in the first place, so despite how badly I want him to know I’m still alive, it feels kind of wrong to do so...”

 _Thankfully_ , Natsume thinks to himself. It should be his job to encourage things that could help bring Tsumugi comfort, but it feels wrong when it involves his old master. He pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, forcing himself to keep the conversation moving before Tsumugi can notice his concern.

“What other ideas did you have, _then_?”

“Well….this one feels redundant, but lord Hibiki.”

Natsume can already sort of understand this one.

“You feel you were not done talking?”

“That’s right…” Tsumugi sounds intrigued rather than worried as he speaks; “He said some very specific things when we met that I keep wondering about. I want to know how he knows me.”

“ _Ha_ ,” Natsume goes, humorlessly, “Best of luck getting a straight answer out of him, then. Wataru-niisan may be the jolliest of the lords, but he is also the most _whimsical_. I doubt he would ever address your questions, should he write you back…”

“You sound like you’re talking from experience.”

Natsume doesn’t answer, and Tsumugi takes that as his cue to sigh in defeat.

“Then I guess I have no names left...what a waste  of a perfectly useful gift.”

“ _Truly_.”

The silence afterwards is tense enough to get Natsume thinking again, and despite it being so unnecessary, he can’t help but imagine himself in the same position, so alone in the world save a few names--some even faceless. It hits him, then.

He _is_ in the same exact position, and he doesn’t know what to do with this information.

And to make matters worse, Tsumugi seems to have read his mind with his following question:

“Who would you contact in my place, huh?”

 _Nobody_ , Natsume wants to say, that he has everything and more than he needs right where he is, that fate has been appropriately assigned to him, but he’s speechless for a bit. What else can he need when he has guardians looking after him and his every wish, a kind and talented pupil to accompany and help him through his days and the yearning of travelers and royalty far and wide?

“...My mother.”

The answer comes out so clearly and so naturally once he really thinks about it that he surprises himself--and it seems to hit Tsumugi too, who makes a small noise of wonder at such an unexpected reply. Natsume frowns at that.

“What-”

“Nothing, nothing--” Tsumugi stammers, “I just thought--that makes a lot of sense, actually, but I didn’t know you had family besides the lords--??”

It makes sense he’d think as much, doesn’t it… Natsume sort of smirks to himself, to be thought as so beyond human.

“I did tell you I had a human age, did I not?” He speaks up, regal, “I had to be born somehow...and of course, the only woman capable of giving birth to the Oracle had to be _remarkable_.”

“Ah...was she now?”

“Of course.” Natsume closes his eyes, remembering. “A follower of Shuu-niisan...a talented sorceress who can read fortunes. She knew who I was even as she carried me within her.”

“Is that so…” Tsumugi sounds endeared, “She sounds like an amazing woman.”

“She is.”

“Does she also visit often?”

 At that, Natsume has to contain a sigh.

"She cannot,” He says, his voice rid of his usual haunting tone--replaced by something truer and melancholic, far from his usual self. “Shuu-niisan had to hide me away even from her as soon as he noticed that I really was the Oracle, because my power has always been strong and so necessary to men of all lands. And then I was hidden even further when Rei-niisan noticed on his own, so I have not seen her since I was a child. I will probably not see her ever again.”

“I’m so sorry to hear…” Tsumugi sounds like he’s about to leave his reply like that, but he speaks up again, suddenly, and as usual, noticing what he shouldn’t.

“Ah-- _Rei_?”

And that’s enough for Natsume to realize he’s been talking too long and too much.

He stays very still--long enough that he can hear Tsumugi shift from his side of the door. He knocks the door gently.

“...Oracle?”

That’s all it takes for him to sink back in place and for him to practically punch his side of the door. He can hear Tsumugi yelp in alarm, but it doesn’t faze him nor makes him feel any sort of guilt-- Why should it, right?

He’s not even Natsume Sakasaki, he has to remember, not the son of the witch of the court of Itsuki, a Guardian of the Realm deserving to stand at the same level as the four other lords--he is _just_ the Oracle.

The Oracle doesn’t feel, the Oracle just does his duty. The Oracle doesn’t miss anyone. The Oracle isn’t guilty of anything. The Oracle just sees, just delivers, just exists for the world around him.

That’s all there is to it, right?

That’s the way Tsumugi seems to see it anyways, calling him by nothing but that title.

“That is _enough_ \--” Natsume calls, just like that, back to his usual self--but more choked. He’s not even looking at the door as he punches it again, “I already humored you enough and even gave you ideas, so you can just _leave_ now.”

“Oh, but--should I get the plate, do you need more--”

“ _I am not a child!_ ” Natsume now yells, at a point beyond himself, “I do not need Sora nor any of my niisan and I especially do not need _you_ to look after me like that!”

“Oracle--”

Another punch.

“ _Leave already!_ ”

There is so much quiet after this order--so packed with emotion and power that Natsume thinks he casted a spell strong enough to make Tsumugi leave on the spot, no footsteps or anything included to be heard. Instead, he ends up realizing his glare has not gotten through the door separating them, because he hears two clear steps. And a small thump.

...Be it his imagination or his magic, but he can sort of feel Tsumugi pressing his forehead to the door, right where his trembling hand is still placed, fingers closed in a tight fist.

“...I’ll do whatever you wish me to do.” Tsumugi says, so quiet it’s nearly not there. “But I want you to know that, though I don’t really understand what I’m doing wrong and how I seem to keep at it... I’m sorry.”

Natsume breathes sharply but soundlessly, only blinking with wide eyes at such a demure response to such an outburst. He knows he has to say something and that anger and loneliness have taken the best of himself yet again, but the lump in his throat makes it near impossible.

And then he hears footsteps, now for sure indicating Tsumugi fulfilling his command.

 

\----

 

Well, that went badly.

A sighing Tsumugi walks up to his bookcase, placing his hand in position for his dove to settle on it. It’s a smart little thing, that bird, and light enough to comfort him even when he’s not sure if he’s upset or not.

Regardless of what he’s done wrong this time, Tsumugi has an idea on who to contact now. He tries his very best to focus on the letter he tasks himself with writing, but an insistent voice on the back of his head advises him to try and apologize once more to Natsume as soon as he’s done.

It takes him pretty much the whole night to come up with a letter short enough to fill up a piece of scroll that won’t weight too much on the dove, but clear and articulate enough to properly express all he wants on one sitting. When he’s done, he decides it’s probably best to just go outside to wait for dawn. After all, with how tense things are for the house in general with Natsume’s anger, it feels too dreadful to risk encountering him late at night and angering him even more.

With that, Tsumugi steps outside the hut, bird in hand. Thankfully, letter-writing has taken up enough time that all Tsumugi needs to do is wait for the sky to look just a tiny bit clearer than it does at the moment; when it does, he rises the bird to the level of his face and closes his eye to whisper  the name of his recipient.

The bird, strangely enough, doesn’t take off.

Tsumugi frowns a bit; had he misheard Wataru? Does the dove need to be covered in the light of dawn? Had he mispronounced the name?

He tries a few more times, and the bird, at most, tilts its head at Tsumugi. On a final effort, figuring that maybe the barrier’s magical energy is what keeps the bird from being able to fly away, he steps just outside to try one last time; whispering the name slow and clear and thinking of the face he needs as strongly as he can:

Somehow, he still gets nothing.

The man sighs- of course this was happening right now, it’s not like he’s deserving of having anything go right, after all... maybe Wataru had pulled a prank on him. Maybe this is what Natsume meant when he said he was too whimsical.

Though...he also seemed absolutely sure the dove was special, so why…

“Hey,” He hears, in the distance. “Ain’t that lad kind of familiar?”

The strange voice reminds him of his encounter with Wataru--but the feeling of dread is worse this time around, for the voice he hears is nowhere near as friendly as the lord’s, and it doesn’t sound like it’s alone.

“Don’t be telling me…”

“Yeah, from the poster in the marketplace. And the shore--damn near anywhere, there’s no mistakin’ it.”

Tsumugi freezes when he realizes it--these are prime fishing hours, and he has stepped out of the barrier with nothing but a dove who won’t listen to him.

And the fishermen, harpoons and nets and rope in hand, cross eyes with him right then.

_Oh._


	8. Contemplations

Tsumugi only gets to blink once before the fishermen start to approach him, all with an unfriendly and greedy glint in their eyes. He looks behind him to quickly glance at the barrier, and considers simply walking back inside, but--wouldn’t that be more troublesome in the long run? Were he to banish on thin air and were these people to notice magic covering something besides himself up, wouldn’t they want to know what it was?

Of course, they could also be too confused to understand what had happened and they’d just leave the beach, but...did Tsumugi really deserve to be covered up?

These thoughts should’ve been cleared up several times by now, what with the many disagreements and awkward moments he’s had with both Natsume and Sora over his poor self-worth, but to be in front of an opportunity to actually be brought to justice and with neither of them on sight to stop him, it seems like the best choice--or the right thing to do, at least.

Plus...Natsume wanted him to leave, didn’t he?

So despite seeing more than a dozen ways he could overpower the fishermen to escape the encounter safe and unscathed, Tsumugi actually stays in place, allowing them to see his face clearly. He hears his dove coo at him insistently, and he can only smile apologetically at it before bringing it near his face to whisper a final command before the men get right in front of him.

“To Sora-kun and Natsume-kun, please.”

This time, the dove flies away on the first try, and Tsumugi’s glasses fall on the sand quickly after.

 

\---

Sora has a bad feeling about today already.

It’s upsetting enough to have vaguely heard Natsume yelling at Tsumugi through his door just the previous day, but something about this sleepless night bothers him especially; he tosses and turns on his bed, whining to himself over being unable to drift off as he usually does so effortlessly.

He ends up sitting up, cross-legged while looking around his dark room-- he realizes then that it isn’t nighttime--it’s just ridiculously early, and he pouts at this, much more liking of summer’s clear and warm daytime.

“Gosh….” He goes, to himself.

Silence feels too awkward to the young magician now that he’s so used to lively days--be it Natsume’s lessons or lullabies, Tsumugi humming as he sews or tells him stories, or having the two of them having a one-sided argument, Sora always had to hear something in the background.

That being said, the quiet is particularly lonely this morning, and it is enough to unsettle him.

He yawns, deciding it’s time to go talk to whoever he can find first to fix the current misunderstanding, and almost as if on cue, he hears a strange noise just outside his window. Slight tapping.

The boy is more surprised than startled by this, already used to Wataru’s sudden visits and the occasional creaks of the old hut, but his eyes widen when, upon opening his wooden window, he sees a familiar white dove flying right to his face.

“Oh-!” He exclaims, nearly falling backwards to catch and calm the exalted animal down, “Easy, easy!”

Sora takes the bird in his hands and pets it until it calms down. When it does, Sora can think clearly enough to realize how strange it here in the first place, and more so, he can notice a letter attached to the its talon. He carefully takes and reads it, and when he’s done, he’s even more confused.

“This isn’t for Sora or Master, but it’s from Sir… why did you bring it to Sora?” He asks the bird, raising the animal to the level of his face. The dove only coos at him unhelpfully, making Sora frown.

“Maybe Sir can clear this up…”

After placing the dove on his pillows, Sora sets out into the house to look for Tsumugi, mind racing with thoughts about the previous day, and now, the strange letter. His heart beats faster and his stomach sinks further with every empty room he comes across, and the feeling of dread he’s had all morning grips him the most when he looks out the window and sees nobody within the barrier’s reach. He runs to Natsume’s door to knock loudly.

“Master!” Sora calls, his voice worried, “Master, please answer!!”

“Sora-?” Natsume’s voice sounds groggy and far-off, probably answering from his bed. The boy pays no mind, knocking even more insistently.

“Master, please wake up! It’s about Sir!”

He can hear Natsume groan, though this time he seems closer to the door.

“I _really_ would rather not deal with-”

“ _Master_ ,” Sora interrupts, so suddenly and so pointedly Natsume actually stops himself in surprise, “Sora is sorry, but Sora has no time for this right now! Sir could be in danger!!”

“ _What_?”

“Sora can’t find Sir anywhere inside the house nor the beach--”

“Maybe he went into town-”

“No!” Sora actually yells, choked up, “Sora would usually think so as well, but Sir’s dove came to Sora with an unsent letter--Sora doesn’t know what that means! Sora is scared for him!”

If Sora alone wasn’t enough to bring Natsume to open his door, the sound of the boy’s tears about to come out definitely is. The Oracle kneels down next to him as soon as he gets a good look at his face.

“Let me see the bird and the _letter_.” He says, commanding but gentle. Sora nods, biting his cheek to keep himself from crying, and takes Natsume’s hand to guide him to his room, where the dove rests on his bed and the letter is clumsily folded next to it. Natsume wastes no time taking the letter to read it, and his eyes widen by the time he’s done.

“Why did this end up _here_ …?”

Sora sniffles.

“Sora doesn’t know, it doesn’t make any sense that Sora was the one to get it…”

This makes Natsume think, and what he quickly puts together seems to alarm him.

“...He was probably in the middle of sending this--and was _interrupted_.”

“Who would do that?” Sora asks, anguished, “It’s not like ordinary people can get into the barrier anyways, so how was Sir interrupted in the first place?”

That’s the part that seems to not fit anywhere in Natsume’s theory either- their general rule as housemates is to never walk out of the barrier unless at least two of them are together, and only if absolutely necessary, but a sudden flash of realization washes over him:

 _'Leave already’,_ he’d said. And not only with words--he’d said it with his actions and his emotions, so clearly that it almost seems stupid to wonder at all why Tsumugi was nowhere to be seen. Natsume is clearly and suddenly overcome with the gravity of his command--of course Tsumugi would walk off on his own if he had the chance. He’d also said something like that, didn’t he? That he’d do whatever Natsume wanted? 

“Master…?” Sora calls, noticing Natsume’s darkened expression.

“That _idiot_ -” Natsume mutters, crumpling the letter with shaking hands. “That stupid, idiotic, sorry little excuse of a man--!”

“Master-”

“I figured it out, and I have had it with his _attitude_!” Natsume says, though not necessarily looking at his apprentice nor expecting an answer. He places the letter back on the bed almost forcefully, glaring down, “This cannot go on as it is- if he wishes to take everything at face value and disregard all the efforts that have been done for him, _fine_! It is his _problem_. He can go ahead and let himself be bait for the creatures in the sea or be taken by strangers if he wishes that so badly-- Perhaps this is a blessing in _disguise_. We could live before him, we can certainly do it _again_.”

...Is he being serious right now?

For a moment, Sora just looks surprised at the rant. Then, he gets an expression Natsume hasn’t seen in him in a very, very long time: an angry frown. That alone is enough for Natsume’s own eyes to widen.

“Sora?”

“Sora meant it when Sora said there was no time for this right now!”

“Time for... _what?_ ”

“This game Master plays so much!” Sora exclaims, “This one where he says the opposite of how he really feels about something!”

“That is--”

“Not a lie! If only Master could see--” Sora gestures around Natsume with insistence, looking so defiant it was as if he were to cry again, “Master is hurt and guilty and so many other things Sora could miss them, but Sora knows what it all means, so Master should really stop lying!”

“I am not-”

“He is! Sora sees nothing but lies!”

“Sora, I swear I would never lie to you-”

“Sora knows, that much is right-” Sora huffs, his look softening, “then it must be...Master might not know it himself. Master thinks he’s not lying because Sora and the lords always know what he thinks and because nobody spends as much time as we do with you… but Sora can clearly see Master is in pain too, and that’s okay!”

Natsume just blinks at his apprentice, but the boy goes on with gentleness.

“Sora understands, and Sora is sure Sir will also come to understand like we all do if Master could give him a chance, so please...”

The mere suggestion leaves Natsume speechless for a good few moments.

 _Is_ he in pain?

If he is, it explains a lot--but at the same time, it makes way for more questions, pushing one in particular to front and center; why does he care enough about this--about Tsumugi, apparently-- that it hurts to think of going back to a life without him?

Because if it does, it could mean--

 

...Oh, but it’s not like it matters now, anyways. There is no point in figuring it out anymore.

Natsume plops down on the bed, sighing heavily.

“...Even if you were right, we might be too late to do anything about it. You know that, don't you?”

Now looking fully sympathetic, Sora walks over to his master to put his hand over his, firm and determined.

“Maybe, but Sora still wants to try something...anything, really. Sora just wants to at least make sure to try.”

“It could be _dangerous_.”

“Sora doesn’t care...Sora will do something, even if he has to do it by himself.”

Such a determined tone can’t be ignored. Natsume finally looks at Sora in the eye, and is actually not surprised to see that they boy’s expression is just as fearless as his words.

That actually pulls a sigh out of the Oracle, quiet and defeated.

“You realize that there is no way I will ever give you permission to do this alone, _right_?”

Sora grins confidently.

“Yes! And that’s why Sora knows that Master is coming with him.”

“...And here I thought you did not care about  _winning_.”

 

\--

All things considered, this is a pretty comfortable situation for someone about to be beheaded.

Tsumugi sighs quietly as he stares at the fishermen on the other side of their camp, who are trying but failing to come up with a way to divide the riches of their promised reward--at least the one the majority seems to agree is the actual sum of money for Tsumugi. A little part of himself, somewhere in the back of his mind, is flattered he’d be worth so much gold when he’d made the math himself a couple times according to previous killers on the loose. Tsumugi decides that given the preposterous but vague amount for his head and what his posters allegedly said--’head wanted, attached or not to the body’, the king must’ve taken the damage he did _extremely_ personally.

(Which, honestly, fair enough.)

It’s been hours since he turned himself in, and despite his civility, the men remained untrusting and even a little scared with his cooperation--and he can’t really find it in himself to blame them for it. Anybody would be suspicious at someone so willing to die, after all, so he blames his brand new bruises and the clumsy tying of his hands and feet on nobody but himself.

From what Tsumugi can hear of the argument, part of the reason the fishermen are even fighting so much is some of them even doubt that such a quiet person would be the assassin who worked for the house of Tenshouin and began all the current controversy in the capital, and they could not afford to get it wrong. The king has apparently gravely punished people who claimed to have killed Tsumugi already, or those who bring the heads of lookalikes before him.

All of it makes Tsumugi think that this is all probably for the best. Who is he to enjoy a calm and peaceful life in the beachside after all the problems he caused, after all? How many dark-haired men had been sacrificed for this farce already? Perhaps the afterlife will not be so bad to him for making the world such a favor… or so he hopes.

The men continue to talk among and over each other, scribbling on the sand and waving wildly at each other, clearly unable to come to an agreement that would suit everybody. Tsumugi considers speaking up to move things along, but he’s stopped when one of the fishermen--oldest, or at least the biggest in the group, wordlessly walks over to him. Tsumugi blinks up.

“Uh…” He clears his throat. “Do you gentlemen know what to do next, or--”

He’s unceremoniously swooped off the sand with a single movement and thrown over the man’s wide shoulder, not unlike a sack of potatoes. His yelp certainly doesn’t help his case as a wanted assassin, and the men in the group whisper among each other.

“Captain, we sure he’s the one worth all this trouble?” The big man speaks up to the group, “He’s as light as feathers. Don’t think this one’s killed much of nothin’.”

A bearded man walks up, examining Tsumugi’s surprised face. He hums, clearly just as confused as his crew.

“Well, he _failed_ to kill the king, so maybe he’s not that good at killin’?”

“Makes sense…but what if we get it wrong? I don’t wanna put a head next to the catches, it’s gonna stink them up on the way home. Much less if it’s the _wrong_ head, y’know.”

“So let’s not take _just_ the head-” He perks up, “Actually, wouldn’t it be even better if the king saw him in the eye? That way he can tell for sure we got the right guy. Who knows--maybe the reward gets even bigger if he gets to kill the bastard himself!”

_The king…._

The men finally start to reach an agreement in an uproar of unison, excited at the prospect, and such an offer actually makes Tsumugi react with fear for once, if only in his thoughts.

The king means...Leo, still, right?

_...Wait, what?_

Being killed quickly is one thing, but to face Leo before that was not part of his plan. Nor going into actual trial--if the king didn’t stab him as soon as they met.

Somehow, the idea of coming face to face with his very last target seems a lot more scary than actual death, and the only reason he can think why takes him back to his recurring nightmare and how he never really has the courage to say a single word to him before either being killed in the spot or running into Eichi. Tsumugi can clearly feel his sweat trickle down his neck and back, though he realizes that might come more from being carried by a big burly man than his unbearable guilt and nerves; or at least he really hopes that's the case.

He finally speaks up to the men for the first time in hours.

“A-Actually, let’s not do that?” He calls, his shaky voice cutting through the crowd, “I...agree that I should be brought to justice, yes, but I’d really rather just get this over with--”

The whispering responses vary from man to man:

“ _Now he wants mercy?_ ”

“ _What is with this guy…_ ”

" _Fuckin’ creep-”_

But the general gist is, nobody’s buying his pleads. Much less now, of all times.

“Anyway,” Calls the captain, clearly ignoring Tsumugi’s request, “we should probably get the lad on the ship already. We still need to make catches in case he turns out not to be the real deal.”

Tsumugi hears a wave of hushed agreement, and though he wants to keep protesting, the man holding him readjusts his grip on him and simply walks away from the meeting, making him lose his nerve. On his current position, Tsumugi can actually still see the barrier and the hut in the distance turn smaller and smaller, and it makes his chest ache.

Regardless of making up his mind about this being for best, it hurts a lot more than he can describe when he loses sight of what had become his home for the last few months.

\--

It’s been about an hour or two since Tsumugi was placed in the ship, now even covered at the mouth just in case he had any more nonsense to say. He can’t feel his hands at this point, so it’s very tempting to break free from the ropes to just stretch for a bit, but the fisherman on duty to watch over him has threatened to knock him out were he to try anything.  Knocking the old guy out is also a very real possibility, with how clumsy and obviously unexperienced the his stance is when it comes to even holding a knife, but Tsumugi sees no real use in it--just another waste of energy, as there was nothing more he could really do to convince them not to take him before the king. So he just stays in place, laying on the wooden floor of the ship and sweating under the hot sun of midday and reflecting on his choices:

He starts realizing and coming to terms with the truth he’s been avoiding since he first opened his mouth to protest; that the more the men get ready to set sail, the more his resolve shakes and the more dread he feels-- deserving or not of his fate, he starts understanding how badly he doesn’t actually _want_ to go through with dying right now. Not only because the idea of seeing Leo in the eye is terrifying, but also because now there’s one more thing to consider with every passing second, and the thought feels stronger than his fear of Leo: in what feels like his final moments by the beach, all he can think about is that right now, Sora and Natsume must be sharing breakfast besides an empty chair.

 _His_ chair.

He could almost laugh. A wooden piece of furniture is seriously making him reconsider justice and morality right now- the lives of the people who got executed and ruined over his petty choices seem little compared to the thought of never sitting in that small dining room in the hut again, between the people he’d come to care for in a way he never imagined he could ever care again.

A thought takes Tsumugi to another, and it starts when he thinks of his chair, which makes him think of the dining room, which makes him think of preparing catches, then fishing with Sora, then his smile, his voice, his encouragement with magic, his own unfinished lessons, his odd but pleasant conversations with Natsume, the bracelet he made him, the gifts he is yet to make--

It goes on, and on, and on.

It honestly makes him think that maybe this is all a mistake, after all.

Now he actually laughs to himself, sounding so raspy and quiet it is easily missed, and it dissolves into a defeated, longing sigh. When will he ever learn?

He’s well aware of how stupid it is to think as much after all the trouble he went through to get himself caught. Of how hypocritical it is to think he wants out after convincing himself he needs this and that this is for the good of the people who suffered in his place, of how messy and selfish and awful he actually is, but...it has always been this way. He's always been an awful person who's tried endlessly to justify himself. This is just the kind of person he is at this point and he’s lived with guilt his whole life, anyways...so just a little more won’t make a difference, will it?

After a little more time passes, Tsumugi starts seeing the rest of the crew come into the ship with heavy bags full of their catches, and the familiar stench of too much fish and salt and oysters in once place hits him all at once.

“All aboard!” Screams the captain, snapping him back to reality, and Tsumugi’s eyes widen--if he wants to do anything about his situation, it is now or never.

Tsumugi sits up and looks at his surroundings, adrenaline rushing through him as he tries to locate any tools that could help him escape at this point. Luckily for him, there’s plenty to choose from with everyone back on board with their catches, but not so luckily, he is essentially surrounded at around twenty men to one. If he is to get out of this, people would have to get hurt--or _worse_ , and the thought troubles Tsumugi a lot more than it used to.

...Ugh, of _course_ it does only now, of all times. What usually helped him sleep at night back when he did such horrible deeds on the daily was convincing himself that everything he was doing was for a reason, that his lord needed him, and that at the end it would all be worth it because he was keeping someone very precious alive and protected and untouched.

Here, though? All middle-aged and older men, possibly with low incomes who need this reward more than the greedy middle-class people who found it so easy to take any head before the king, and nobody is here to tell him what to do. He bites the inside of his cheek and frowns, aware that every moment he spends reasoning what to do is a moment lost.

Once Tsumugi sees the last man get on board and how his guard walks off to help him seal the boards of the ship, though, he decides: he’s going to do whatever it takes to just get to the barrier.

And it is with that that Tsumugi Aoba, the wanted assassin, kicks back into the surface.

“Captain, look over there!”

...Or so he thinks.

The exclamation comes so out of nowhere Tsumugi can’t help but look in the direction the fisherman points at, and though the crew blocks his view and there is not much to be seen from the floor, he can certainly notice something is off even from where he is; the ominous darkening sky, the shaking of the ship and the sudden gust of air blowing at his hair can be seen and felt by everyone, after all.

“Are you all seein’ what I’m seein’?!” Shouts a crew member, “Wasn’t the weather supposed to be clear all day?!”

“I don’t know what’s going on either!!”

“We can’t set sail like this, we need to retreat to land!!”

Hurried men run over each other to secure their bags as others pick up barrels and tools that have been knocked from the threatening, rising winds. Even Tsumugi himself falls back on the floor hard enough that the cloth placed on his mouth slips out, making him gasp for air.

No less than a minute later, half of the crew is off the ship and back in the beach--along with Tsumugi, who is brought along--, yelling their surprise and confusion at each other. Not a lot of time passes before the wind picks up, making the waves crash so violently most of the men get soaked despite being far from the shore.

From where they stand, they can see that the gray sky remains the same, threatening but not delivering on rain just yet. It was all sudden wind.

No matter where anybody looks at it from, the weather is just... _off._ There is no explaining it.

“Now what!” Calls a man, shouting so loud he breaks through the whispers of his crew-mates. Tsumugi is about to take this chance to try and chew on the knots of his wrists, but to his and everybody’s surprise, there is a very clear answer to the man’s yelling.

" _N_ _ow you give back what belongs to me.”_

Nobody speaks. This isn’t the voice of any men among them--it’s too chilling for that. Too young.

And, for Tsumugi, too familiar. His eyes are wide in an instant, and he sits up, clothes now full of sand and wet.

_...Natsume-kun?_

But he doesn’t see the Oracle anywhere.

Nobody can, in fact, and the few fishermen who were lucky enough to hold on to their harpoons hold them up in warning, though there is no agreement in which direction they should be pointed at.

“Show yourself!” The captain demands, screaming at the heavens.

“ _Oh_?” Replies Natsume’s voice, echoing clearly into everybody’s ears, “ _I am afraid I cannot. I would not want to have to blind you all at once. It would be like staring at the sun._ ”

The whispers among the men turn louder, more scared and anxious than ever. But the captain remains stubborn, shoving his harpoon up in the air.

“Stop fucking around with us! Who are you!?”

 _“It is not ‘who’, but ‘what’._ ” Natsume explains, so very simply. “ _Are you sure you wish to make my acquaintance so easily_?”

“Where the hell are you!?”

“ _My._ ” He clicks his tongue. “ _So stubborn, despite all the fear and uncertainty I can see from you all_.”

That makes the man gulp--Tsumugi feels almost bad. The whole crew can relate to that, obviously; and to their horror, Natsume’s voice is heard once more instead of after anyone’s response or confirmation.

“ _But if you wish to see me so badly, I suppose I can comply a bit to that._ ”

Tsumugi wants to say something back, to warn him not to come any closer. His mind races with worry--that Natsume is too frail for this, that his position is far too important and delicate to just risk it to a mass of scared and angry men so easily-- but every thought passes by too quickly for him to choose anything. He just stares, dumbfounded, as the winds pick up again.

A heavy mist comes from everywhere around the beach, slowly but surely approaching the group. It is cold to the touch, chilling to the bone those unlucky enough to feel it, and it lingers for a moment before it takes shape before them all, red in color.

Then, Tsumugi sees Natsume--sort of.

The silhouette certainly looks like the Oracle’s, including the outlines of his long hair, but he seems taller, wider and far more intimidating than he does with his usual petite frame. The only clear features in this strange and foggy shape are his piercing golden eyes, fixed in a severe glare and, terrifyingly, a smile.

“ _Well, you have seen some of me now.”_ He speaks, louder and clearer and even more haunting.

The corners of his knowing and sly grin reach his ears.

 _“Now what?_ ”


	9. Game

Though different of what Tsumugi is used to, he has to admit this new form of Natsume’s is beyond scary, no matter how little he can clearly see with his lack of glasses. The fishermen seem to agree with this sentiment, cowering before the ghostly form of the Oracle, and some even dropping their belongings to the sand. The figure of Natsume smirks at them.

“W-What are you--?” Goes the crew’s captain, lowering his harpoon. He seems to have realized that there was no way of harming this air-like creature. “And what do you want from us?”

“ _One question at the time_.” Natsume says. He moves slightly towards the group, and that’s enough to make the men flinch--a reaction the Oracle seems to enjoy a lot.

“Then what…what exactly are you?” Stammers the captain.

Tsumugi braces himself for a reaction to Natsume’s title, but what he actually says comes off as unexpected:

“ _I_ _am the Witch of the Old Lands_.”

“Huh-” Tsumugi goes, and despite how quiet it is, he can catch Natsume’s quick glance to him--the one that usually orders him to shut up before he says anything stupid. He almost laughs to himself after yelping.

_Ah, that’s Natsume-kun, alright…_

Thankfully, the fishermen don’t pay much attention to him or the quick interaction. The captain speaks up again.

“I have never heard of a witch in these lands!”

“ _Because I have a distaste for being disturbed and making myself known, obviously._ ” Natsume says, the lie coming off so naturally Tsumugi wouldn’t know better if he hadn’t lived with him already. “ _And I am already feeling rather disturbed by all of you, you know.”_

There’s murmurs at that. If the scary witch was already displeased enough to show herself, they were lucky to still be standing there, weren’t they?

Going with that, Tsumugi has to do his best to feign fear as well--though it’s hard when he’s so surprised by how far Natsume is going with this charade and trying to figure out  how exactly he might be pulling it off in the first place. The captain frowns, doing an excellent job of hiding his fear.

“What can we do to appease you then, mistress witch--?”

Natsume laughs quietly at the title, and narrows his eyes at the man, still smirking.

“ _Well, I have told you before. You will return what is mine_.”

“D-Do you mean the fish?”

“ _No. I am used to you men coming to my waters for game._ ” He points one foggy finger in Tsumugi’s direction. “ _That is what I want_.”

“No way in hell!”

Natsume glares at the outburst, and the man yelps--he then clears his throat.

“I mean, my lady--” He continues, much more subdued, “We are taking him before the king for judgement. It is first-come and first-serve when it comes to these rewards--”

“ _Does it look like I care?_ ”

Natsume’s voice cuts so sharply and so coldly into the man’s explanation that most men listening take a scared step backwards, but this only makes the captain angrier and more impatient.

“We--we found him first!”

“ _You did not._ ” Natsume moves closer to the captain, his smirk now replaced by an icy glare. Despite not moving from his place in stubborn protest, the man’s expression finally turns the slightest bit unsure and shaken. Natsume doesn’t even take a moment to admire his relentlessness, glaring and speaking severely.

 _"T_ _he moment that man reached these lands, he became_ **_my_ ** _property. You are stealing from me. And when you steal from me, I get angry._ ”

“Y-You….have no use for him, or a reward...” The captain tries.

“ _Maybe. But I am already overseeing his judgment.”_

“That is the king’s will!”

 _“That is no king of mine. Besides…”_ His frown is deeper. _“This is the place where the man you have caught is wanted the most.”_

As if Tsumugi’s eyes couldn’t get wider. The unknowing captain stammers, veins clear in his forehead now that he’s growing more and more impatient with his negotiations.

“That’s bullshit!”

Natsume simply shrugs.

“ _Tough luck. This is my will, and I will not change my mind.”_

“But-!”

“ _I have explained myself enough to you, old fool._ ” Natsume goes, now impatient. “ _Do as I say or be trapped in this stormy beach forever._ ”

The captain looks horrified at that.

“Wait, so this weather-?!”

 _“It is my doing, yes._ ” Natsume explains, coldly, " _So you will see I am serious about this. Say you will leave quietly or try risking yourself and your crew to the ocean. It will be far less merciful than I am._ ”

For the first time, the captain looks back to his crew instead of talking back to the Oracle. He seems to be looking for someone to protest or something to hold on to be able to bring Tsumugi along, but his men all seem too scared to try. Plus, without them even being sure this is the assassin the kingdom is looking for, it seems they’re risking themselves for nothing--Tsumugi can tell as much from half listening to their hushed conversations.

After a long silence, the captain sighs.

“...Damn you. One lousy killer ain’t worth my whole crew and catches.”

The insult makes Natsume regain his knowing smile, and he interlaces his airy fingers together, the gesture both mocking and graceful.

_“I knew you would see reason, good sir.”_

“Fuck off,” He gives a raspy sigh, “Alright. We’ll leave without him.” He continues, bitter. “But know this, we won’t be the last to try to pry him off of here if he ends up being the one the capital is lookin’ for.”

“ _So be it._ ” Replies Natsume, without missing a beat. “ _That will be my problem_.”

“Whatever you say, mistress witch.” He spits on the sand, and looks back again to yell one last order:

“Oi, one of you dogs let the lad go! We’re leavin’!”

Immediately, a fisherman steps towards Tsumugi to undo the knots on his hands and feet, and though relieved, Tsumugi doesn’t really find it in him to stand up just yet. He just stares while rubbing his numb wrists as the crew all move and regroup behind their leader, leaving him sitting alone and disheveled on the sand. Natsume’s figure squints at him before turning back to the captain, who has just cleared his throat to catch his attention.

“So, witch. The weather…”

Instead of replying, Natsume snaps his fingers--or he seems to, as his gassy form doesn’t allow for noise. And though nothing seems to happen at first, the sky slowly clears into its usual blue and the fog starts coming apart--and with it, the witch as well.

Before vanishing, he addresses the fishermen one last time.

“ _To prove to you all how merciful I am, I will allow you all to come back to these waters to fish as you always have.”_

There’s relieved whispers and thanks at that, but they quickly turn down when, right before disappearing completely from sight, the Oracle addresses them.

“ _However, mark my words.”_ He smiles ominously _. “If you try to steal from me again, I will make sure that stormy oceans are the least of your worries_ ... _you will come to know the true fear that comes with a curse._ ”

When he’s finally gone, there’s silence.

Then, simultaneously, both terrified and relieved groans break in the group.

Once or twice, Tsumugi hears the suggestion to be taken into the ship anyways, but the captain shushes them all and very clearly orders them to head back to the ship. Tsumugi is surprised by how calm he breathes once he hears as much and when he sees everybody start walking away from the beach--or at least, everybody except the captain, who lingers in front of him while glaring down. Tsumugi thinks he will say something, but nothing comes out.  

“Um…” Tsumugi tries, unsure.

At the end, the old captain only closes his eyes and spares the assassin a nod.

Awkward as ever, Tsumugi nods back when he registers the gesture--he’s not sure if this is the man’s way of accepting defeat or recognizing him as a treat or just how goddamn lucky this turnout had been for him--but it sure is something.

The captain finally follows after his men, and with all the damage and casualties made by the sudden storm, the ship leaves the beach until the sun starts setting, and Tsumugi can only manage to feel safe enough to stand up as he sees it getting lost into the distance.

He sighs heavily as he stares at the now orange ocean, trying to reason if the last few hours of his life had happened at all-- somewhere between the letter he wrote at night and the panic he felt and a phantasmal Natsume coming to his rescue, he’s not quite sure where to start questioning.

Thankfully, though, he won’t have to wait long to do that, as he hears a cheerful voice in the distance.

“Sir!!!”

The very second Tsumugi turns around, he’s tackled with a hug so sudden and so strong that makes him stumble--were Sora any taller, he probably would have knocked him backwards. His hands hold Sora’s shoulders on instinct after flailing unsure for a few seconds.

“Oh--Sora-kun?”

“Sir, sir, sir!” Sora shouts with a shaky voice, muffled into Tsumugi’s chest. “Sora thought the fishermen would never leave! Sora is so happy we made it in time!”

“We…?”

Tsumugi looks up from Sora, and finds that Natsume is also there, arms crossed and looking away from him, seemingly uncaring of the scene before him. Tsumugi looks between them once more, and then he realizes Sora is practically shaking against him.

“Oh-” He goes, quickly kneeling to be at the boy’s eye-level, and still holding his shoulders gently. “Sora-kun--please, please don’t cry…”

“Sora can’t help it…” The boy says, sniffling. “A lot could have gone wrong, so Sora was afraid…”

“Don’t be, it’s okay…”

“Is Sir alright?”

“Yes, I--somehow. Thanks to you both, I think.” He holds Sora’s cheeks carefully, to face him. “Did you do all of that for me? The weather, that creature…?”

Sora nods slowly.

“Yeah… the mist came from potions and the gray sky was an illusion Sora made just around here…” He glances at Natsume with a teary little smile. “Master projected himself into the mist in order to talk to everybody while Sora whispered all the colors he could see into his ear--oh, and the wind was Master’s doing as well, right?”

Natsume just nods. Tsumugi does as well, now cleaning Sora’s remaining tears with his hands.

 “But I didn’t see you anywhere... how did you do that?"

Sora giggles slightly both at the question and at Tsumugi touching his face so gently.

“Because we were hiding using wards! Like the ones we use around the barrier so it can’t be seen by intruders...lord Hibiki taught us that one, Sir could use to learn it, too.”

“Yeah, probably…” He laughs just a little, and he sighs. “You did so much just for me, huh?”

“Not just for Sir...” Sora quickly replies, holding both of Tsumugi’s hands, “but for all of us! We all live together now, so it’s only natural we help each other. It’s what families do.”

The word ‘family’, almost foreign to Tsumugi, hits him like a punch to the throat.

Except, for the first time, it’s kind of a good pain he gets from it--unusual, unexpected, but not unwelcome.

That pulls a real smile out of Tsumugi, who can only nod at such a statement that, though naive and simple, feels truer than ever. He lets go of Sora’s cheeks and looks up to see if Natsume is reacting at all to any of that, but the Oracle has already stepped close enough to him to cover his sight. Tsumugi blinks up at him, unaware in how to read Natsume’s serious eyes.

“Um…?”

But Natsume says nothing. He just extends his hand, and for a moment, Tsumugi braces himself for a much deserved slap.

Instead, he realizes, Natsume is just presenting him a much missed item; his glasses.

“Ah…” Tsumugi goes, awkwardly, “You found them?”

Natsume frowns at him like he’s stupid. “How _else_ would I have them?”

“Right!” Tsumugi laughs, awkwardly. “Thank you, I--thank you, really. For everything.”

He wants to reach to put them on, but Natsume beats him to it and places the glasses on Tsumugi himself, surprisingly carefully enough to even adjust them properly over his ears and nose. Tsumugi blinks up at him, dumbfounded, and Natsume scoffs.

“I think it is about time we headed _back_.” He declares, quickly turning away. “We wasted a big part of our day on this _escapade._ ”

“Oh! Sora’s hungry, yeah!” Sora says, wasting no time to help Tsumugi up, “Since Sora and Master worked extra hard today, Sir should make dinner!”

...Wait, though, where are the rest of his scolds?

Although Tsumugi feels like Natsume and Sora have skipped a big part of a conversation, he gets up with Sora’s help--and the boy refuses to let go of him, stronger than usual. He tries to smile down at him, laughing quietly and nervously.

“Ah...alright, that sounds fair.”

Sora grins in delight at his subdued agreement. Tsumugi expects to just hold his hand as they follow Natsume back into the house, but the boy doesn’t leave it at that. Instead, Sora actually runs to the Oracle, fearlessly grabbing one of his hands while keeping his grip on Tsumugi’s with the other; for a moment, Tsumugi thinks about protesting and warning Sora that maybe Natsume shouldn’t be bothered right now, but Natsume doesn’t say anything to the sudden gesture. He stops moving for just a bit, looking at Sora and then at Tsumugi in disbelief, but when he’s done with that, he doesn’t actually let go. He just looks ahead, squeezes Sora’s hand, and keeps walking.

As they begin making their way back, the cozy glow of sunset lighting their way, Tsumugi can’t help but still think that there’s a lot left to talk about.

Their current moment feels so casual and happy and familiar it’s as if he hadn’t given himself away-- as if he hadn’t had mountains of realizations, as if he hadn’t heard Natsume say all he did while he was pretending to be this dark and powerful entity. Tsumugi wants really badly to ask and talk about it all, but…

He also realizes it doesn’t feel right, not now.

Right now, he doesn’t actually _want_ to think about reason or guilt or motivations or justice--he’s had enough of that for today.

All Tsumugi wants is to hold Sora’s hand as the boy holds his own and Natsume’s, and all he wants to do when they get home is cook the tastiest and best meal he can manage, just for the three of them.

 

\-----

The rest of the day is a blur. An exhausted Tsumugi sort of remembers getting home and cooking, moving completely on instinct as soon as they make it to the house. Despite Sora saying Tsumugi should do all the work, neither him nor Natsume actually follow through, helping him set the table and peel vegetables and even clean up when they’re done eating.

Afterwards, Tsumugi remembers tucking Sora in, who claimed to be up since dawn. He made sure to praise the boy’s efforts and promise that yes, he’ll actually be home next morning, before excusing himself out of the room, tired yet not feeling up to retiring to the basement just yet.

All of that brings him to present time, where he sits in front of the house’s fireplace, a heavy bear pelt covering him up for comfort and a light book on his lap. The night is definitely not cold enough to call for all the warmth he has surrounded himself with, but it’s so relaxing he can’t help but just stay in front of the flames, sighing lightly--then yawning.

“ _Tired_?”

The sound of Natsume’s voice is enough to wake Tsumugi up. He glances, surprised as the Oracle approaches with his usual crossed arms and serious eyes.

“Ah…” Tsumugi clears his throat, surprised at how groggy he sounds, “I mean--yes, I am. It’s been the longest day.”

Natsume clicks his tongue as he stops next to him.

“You did not spend _all_ day making potions and performing spells, you know.”

Tsumugi actually laughs quietly at that.

“I know...I didn’t get any sleep last night, though. And today I was kept tied up for...gods, hours. I got to see the sun rise and set amidst everything.”

It’s a pretty brave move to just talk back to Natsume like that, but he doesn’t seem too bothered by Tsumugi doing so. In fact, the Oracle raises his eyebrows, as if impressed by his answer, and, surprisingly, sits down next to him.

“You must be _really_ exhausted if you are not going on about how you do not deserve rest, or something of the like.”

“No...for once, I think I do.” Tsumugi grins a little. “I figure you wouldn’t like it, anyways.”

Natsume scoffs.

“It seems you are _finally_ learning.”

“Yeah...” Though satisfied with this moment, Tsumugi sighs again, catching Natsume’s attention. It’s the first time they have gotten to sit on such an equal ground for a talk, and though Tsumugi is aware he could ruin it if he says the wrong thing, he wants to risk it. He speaks up while looking at Natsume.

“Say, though...I have a lot to ask.”

It takes just that to make Natsume glance away, seeming to have expected this.

“Right. Ask away.”

Tsumugi blinks twice at him, incredulous.

“Oh. You’re being surprisingly reasonable…?”

That earns him a very quick shove that, though it hurts a bit, actually feels well-deserved. Tsumugi complains between laughs.

“That’s so harsh!”

“I am _always_ reasonable, you big idiot-” Natsume goes, grumpily, “You have a lot of nerve implying _otherwise_.”

“Sorry, sorry-!”

“ _Whatever_ ,” Natsume huffs, leaning away to let Tsumugi get back on track. “So what is it you need to know, anyway?”  

“Right, um-” Tsumugi’s laugh turns into a very small and thoughtful smile. He hums, wondering where to start. “A lot of what I wonder are the exact details on what you and Sora-kun did to help me back on the beach, but I guess that’s better left for whenever he wakes up tomorrow…”

“He did a lot of the work, so _yes_.”

Tsumugi nods.

“Then I think right now I can only ask you just a couple things…”

“Such as…?”

Though Tsumugi seems to turn sheepish, he doesn’t really look away.

“So I... belong to you?”

If Natsume wasn’t looking away already, that would’ve made him do as much. Instead, he glares at the nearest wall, quickly placing his hair behind his ears. It seems more like he’s trying to keep his hands busy to avoid fidgeting or hitting Tsumugi again, and Tsumugi can’t help but find it a little endearing, smiling slightly. Natsume huffs, seeming to feel this reaction.

“Seriously? _That_ is what you are asking first?”

“Well, it’s the first thing that came to mind only you could answer-”

“Gods, of course, typical _you_ to put me in the spot like that.” Natsume interrupts, the slightest bit agitated, “Look, I do not want you getting any _ideas._  I was playing a _role_ , so I had to come up with something dramatic enough to intimidate those fishermen, and given the situation we are in, I just thought that saying something like that would--”

“I don’t mind.”

Natsume stops dead in his tracks, and looks at Tsumugi with incredulous wide eyes.

“ _What?_ ”

“I mean, ah…” Tsumugi laughs nervously, now being the one unable to meet Natsume’s eyes. “I really mean it, I don’t mind playing along to that.”

_Playing along?_

“What do you mean?” Natsume asks, prompting Tsumugi’s awkward laughter once more.

“It’s just that when you said that--that I belonged to you, that I was your property, that I was wanted here the most...I wasn’t sure how I felt about it at the moment, but after thinking about it for the past few hours, I realized I didn’t mind being all of that.”

The naturality of his words actually leaves Natsume speechless for a moment. The Oracle stares at his librarian, shoulders tense and chest aching; the idea that Tsumugi is saying these things at all implies a lot of things Natsume didn’t expect to hear, or rather, things Natsume didn’t know he _wanted_ to hear.

Tsumugi doesn’t mind belonging to him. To be wanted here.

.. _.Oh._

After thinking clearly for a bit, though, Natsume frowns at him.

This is _Tsumugi_ , for crying out loud. He probably means exactly what he’s saying instead of what Natsume is now thinking about, and that makes the Oracle sigh.

“...What you really mean is that you do not mind me being your new _Tenshouin_.”

“Wha--” Tsumugi blushes bright red, bringing his hands up to shake along with his head, “No, I don’t mean to compare like that-!”

“You used to be his _property_ , no?”

“I mean--” Tsumugi stammers, “I-I guess when you put it like that--yes? I suppose?”

Natsume sighs again, more exasperated.

“See, I _knew_ it.”

“Still, what I mean is-- I don’t mind taking orders the way I did for him, to amuse you, to be a right-hand or for your will to be dispersed through me as it used to happen with him, so--”

“Well, start _minding_ ,” Natsume cuts in, serious, “because you are _not_ a tool or an animal to be owned and I do not want you doing any of that.”

Tsumugi just blinks at him.

“I...what?”

...What indeed, Tsumugi.

Natsume takes a moment to think about it, surprised at himself for how quickly he has managed to run his mouth without thinking this time around. After a few moments he crosses his arms, pretending to have known all along that he’s wanted to say this.

“As you hear it, _obviously_ ,” Natsume says, staring straight at him. “You--you do not belong to _me_. What I really meant back there is that you belong _here_. I told you as much back when we first talked in the basement, that you are _required_ to stay here--no, _obligated_ , so--”

As Tsumugi tries but fails to process what Natsume is telling him, he can only keep on blinking with uncertainty.

“You’re being awfully contradicting...?”

“...How so?”

“I mean, um-” Tsumugi scratches at his scalp, nervous, “I don’t know, you’re just...not very clear in how you see me or what I’m supposed to do here. First you tell me I’m just here for the books, then that you don’t want to see me at all, that you want me to leave, now this…”

All Natsume can think about by the time he finishes listing off is that all of the instances Tsumugi has mentioned before the current one are lies; then Sora’s words from earlier in the day ring clear: the ones where he talked about that game he seems to always take part in, and it’s impossible not to be conscious about it now-- how long has he been playing this, anyways?

And most importantly, is he willing to keep playing now that he has noticed it?

Tsumugi stares at him in respectful silence, but he breaks it when Natsume doesn’t speak up at all.

“Oracle--no, Natsume-kun.” He says, softly but urgently, “What is the truth?”

Ah, he called his name.

Though it’s hard to think Tsumugi’s doing that because he has finally realized that’s what Natsume prefers, Natsume can’t help but to entertain the thought; maybe Sora is right and Tsumugi _can_ understand these things with time.

Natsume’s shoulders relax, though he looks away.

“Do not think of the things I said before.” He starts, surprisingly calm, “Just...think of right _now_. So what I just said is the one thing that matters, that I--” _Will not be like Tenshouin_ , is what he means to say, but he bites his tongue. There is no need to say what he means by comparing to that unpleasant man in any way, but if he doesn’t, how would Tsumugi understand?

He actually pauses, thinking hard, figuring out what he really means to say, and an intrigued Tsumugi tilts his head, trying to prompt him to help.

“That you…?”

...Focus, Natsume, don’t play the game.

He tries to think of a good reason- something that would make him go as far as he has so far. Something that justifies him enough not to be questioned.

After a moment, he thinks he gets it.

“...That I want you to _live_ ,” Is what Natsume ends up saying, quietly. “I want you to be a man who lives his life. Regardless of how poor your choices are, how badly you think you do not deserve it- I want you to stay alive and to stay in this house and if you do not...I want you to keep on living for as long as you can.”

The wood in the fireplace in front of them gives a gentle and pleasant crack right then. Tsumugi just stares in shocked silence at Natsume, the bear pelt all the way down to his shoulders from how distracted he is with the talk--and mostly, with what Natsume has just confided. Natsume narrows his eyes, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

“...What, was that not _easy_ enough for you to understand?”

Tsumugi chuckles, shaking his head.

“No, I... think I can manage that.”

“ _Good_ ,” Natsume goes, eager to move on, “was that your only question?”

“...Oh.” Tsumugi says, his smile melting into a thin line. What he seems to recall just then appears to be not such a good thing-- he picks the pelt back up to cover himself properly, fingers curling just the slightest bit tightly into the warm fabric, and this time he is the one who isn’t really facing Natsume. “It’s not as personal as what I just asked, so don’t worry.”

“Yet it seems to trouble _you_.”

“Kind of…” He sighs. “It’s about my dove.”

Though Natsume had forgotten about the bird, having it be mentioned sort of tells him where this is going. As he recalls, the little dove is safely tucked away in Sora’s room, comfortable in the boy’s presence once things had finally calmed down in the house. He simply nods, turning to study Tsumugi’s expressions.

“What about _it_?”

Tsumugi actually frowns down.

“Is there a possibility it has more limitations than just a name?” He asks, all too quickly, like he wants to get this out of the way as soon as possible. His look is just as urgent as his tone, even if it is directed at the floor. “Like...maybe I need to actually know where the other person is in order to send them a letter?”

Natsume wants to sigh, but holds back. He knew this was going to be about the letter.

“...No, Wataru-niisan’s magic is not meant to be that _complicated_ ,” Natsume replies, confident, “His spells are all foolproof, especially his messengers... the only reason one would not fly away would be if there was _nobody_ to reply on the other side of the letter.”

The silence that follows that statement is in no way as comfortable as the few they had in their previous conversation, and Natsume can feel and see it clearly: not only is Tsumugi trying to be unaffected by such a reply--he’s failing at it, somehow even more than usual. His look softens when Tsumugi finally makes a sound--defeated, quiet laughter.

“So my recipient…”

“ _Yes_ ,” Natsume confirms, firm yet just as quiet. “There is no need to say it out loud.”

Tsumugi can only nod at such an unmistakable outcome. He remains looking down, smiling tightly.

“Alright, then. I understand--alright. That’s fair.”

It obviously isn’t. Natsume has to make a conscious effort not to look too concerned by this reaction, but he realizes it doesn’t really matter if Tsumugi’s not even looking at him. He breathes out a raspy, uncertain sigh before speaking up.

“These are... _tiring_ times.” Natsume tries, “The Old Lands may be peaceful, but the world on the other side of the ocean is a mess as of right now. Fairness is not at _reach_.”

“Oh, I know that,” Tsumugi pipes up, his tone ominously agreeing, “I just meant that it’s fair for _me_. Not for her-- _I’m_ the one who deserves to hear this. I’m actually surprised I didn’t think of it sooner, you know?”

“That is not-”

“Or maybe I knew all along!” Tsumugi goes, cheerful and manic but still refusing to look at Natsume, “Maybe I wrote that letter to fool myself into believing that she was still okay. That there had been no consequences for her, that my mistakes were just mine...isn’t that just so selfish? At the end of the day, it had to be all about me, as usual, I can’t seem to make any important choices without hurting everybody around me-”

“Calm down, you-”

“I’m calm! I’m--wonderful, just perfect--” He laughs hoarsely, holding the pelt so tightly his knuckles are totally white and shaking by now, “So lucky too! I got to live another day while everybody who ever came in contact with me is suffering or their reputation was ruined or even better yet, _dead_ for who knows how long--”

“No, that is--”

“--Who would let the mother of an assassin whose full name is all over the capital go free, anyways!?”

“ _Tsumugi!_ ”

It isn’t a spell, but it stops Tsumugi better than one.

Tsumugi’s wide eyes finally turn to Natsume’s; the Oracle's usual golden glare is full of unmistakable concern.

Stunned silent at both his outburst and the fact that Natsume has called his name for the first time since he knows him, the librarian can only stare, unknowing what to say or do. Natsume reaches forward now that he has a chance, placing his hands on Tsumugi’s shoulders and kneeling so he’s taller and completely the center of his attention. There is no reaction from Tsumugi except the sight of his uncertain olive eyes following him up, but Natsume speaks up again, deciding it's better not to waste any time.

“I...I understand your pain.” Natsume tells him, his voice free of haunting, free of commands and allure and everything else. “I know what it is like to love a mother so strongly. I do not know if there is a way to not make yourself responsible for what has happened or if you can be forgiven at all for anything you have done, but...you cannot let this eat you away. Not after you said you could manage to keep on living.”

“But…”

“No,” He tightens his grip on his shoulders, urgent, “No buts. What is done is done, and there is nothing you or I or Sora or even any of my niisan could do about it. You have been given a second chance at life, so you have to make best of it, no matter how little you can do.”

Tsumugi says nothing, but Natsume doesn’t let that stop him. He goes on, almost pleading:

“You... have to recognize and accept your past, mistakes and all. Those were your choices, after all-- but do not use them as an excuse to give up on your future. You will only die when your time comes, and you will not run away--but otherwise, do not seek it out. It will not fix anything. Nobody will be brought back from it.”

There is so much Tsumugi seems to want to say to all of this, his mouth half-parted for most of the time Natsume speaks. Maybe he does think he has to give up on his future. Maybe he still thinks running away will fix something. Maybe he does think it will bring anything-- _anyone_ back.

Instead of talking back, though, he just bites at his trembling lip, watery eyes looking scared and sad and stunned all at once; a sight so helpless it makes Natsume sigh. There is probably nothing more he can say to snap him out of his panic, but there is plenty he could start doing to help it lessen.

So Natsume lets go of his shoulders and reaches to take Tsumugi’s glasses from him in a surprisingly gentle movement.

“And given the circumstances…” Natsume says, carefully putting them away, “You could finally learn to live with your grief if you start making the right choices-- to let your pain live somewhere besides your nightmares.”

And in the quietest, strangest impulse, he places a hand over one of Tsumugi’s.

“For now, though… it is actually a good time to mourn.”

Without losing a beat--or perhaps just one to look at Natsume in the eyes, Tsumugi practically throws himself into the Oracle's chest, clinging so tightly to his back he nearly hurts the redhead with his surprising strength.

He cries, sobs and bawls the night away, and though Natsume can’t bring himself to say more encouraging speeches, it’s not like he needs to.

He’s simply there for Tsumugi, patting his back and his hair as gently as he can manage.

 

\--

 

They remained on the floor for a long while.

By the time Tsumugi is too tired to keep on grieving, Natsume wordlessly pulls away from him and proceeds to put pillows under his head, only to later cover him up with the long forgotten bear pelt, thinking to himself that Sora is the only other person he’s ever comforted and tucked in like this before; or the only other person who has experienced such gentleness coming from him, period.

He passes a finger over Tsumugi’s swollen face, cleaning off stray tears away, and he’s overcome with a sense of deja vu:

This is just like when they first saw each other.

Hm. Did Tsumugi even remember that?

At the moment, Natsume remembers he just felt disgust and a pinch of pity for him, seeing nothing but an assassin with way too much luck.

Right now, though, with summer coming to an end and more or less the same exact scenario, his feelings have changed rather drastically; the pity remains there, of course, but this final comparison between their first and current moment together is what makes Natsume realize a few things:

First, as he'd discovered earlier, that he wants Tsumugi to live.

Second, that he wants to protect Tsumugi.

And third, that he’s infuriatingly and hopelessly fallen in love with Tsumugi.


	10. Rewind (Part 1)

The first time Natsume ever heard about love other than that of his parents or his elder brothers, he was a fifteen-year-old spending studying-time a late night reunion in a stable in the castle grounds of Laerad; then owned by Rei Sakuma, better known to all as the Demon King.

He wasn’t invited to this particular party, of course, but that was the least of his worries. Nobody seemed to notice him when he dressed in plain hooded clothes and kept to himself in the middle of loud singing and chatting, noisy horses and beer spilling to the ground everywhere he looked.

Natsume, then a young lad and curious as ever, stared in fascinated silence as a drunk knight around his age proclaimed that the loved the maid he met in the nearest brothel just a few nights ago, and that he was going to marry her as soon as his service to the kingsguard was over. His friends laughed and mockingly assured that things were sure to go right if he still felt the same about her the morning after fucking her.

That got Natsume thinking quite seriously about both things--loving and fucking--, and how a lot of people made them sound like one and only. And with each story the young and rowdy knights kept on sharing about their own experiences on either now that they were all mostly awake on nothing but drunkenness, Natsume realized he couldn’t come up with a personal anecdote about either subject, no matter how hard he tried.

That, as many things did at the time, frustrated him.   

So from that moment on, Natsume consciously tried to create those stories himself, and it was during that particular period of his life that he realized he had a fondness not only for the beautiful and hardworking ladies of the court, but for handsome and cheerful knights as well; his favorites were always those with clear eyes, the lighter the better.

He also realized that, though he didn’t lack the confidence to openly flirt with anybody he considered pretty enough, he couldn’t ever seem to be properly reciprocated; it was always either by his status as the Oracle or that of being the ward of the terrifying Demon King. But regardless of reason, the result was always the same.

The farthest Natsume had ever gotten with his romantic escapades were sloppy kisses with whoever he could convince to hide behind curtains with him--usually the younger knights or newcomers to the castle staff--, and that was only after making sure Rei and stubborn guards were nowhere to be seen. And even for the times he actually managed to get more passionate kisses in or even the slightest amount of groping, his partners wouldn’t really go through with anything else, always either interrupted by approaching people or nerves that came from gaining themselves sure punishment for tainting the precious Oracle of Laerad.

So in conclusion, though adventurous, Natsume couldn’t say he had the best time with kissing, loving or even fucking just yet.

Which, again, frustrating.

It was only after a few failed attempts at romance that Natsume started to realize that it was hopeless to expect anything out of his current surroundings. After all, according to everyone around him, his life was bound to fate-so if fate said no love, no love he would have.

...Though it didn’t mean he wasn’t sore about it or defied it out of spite. Especially on the few times he could recognize he had crushes on specific people and not just their features; such was the case for a certain redheaded knight he came to see from time to time during his stay at Rei’s castle.

\--

“Naga-kun,” Natsume said, entitled hands to his hips. “I did not see you at the barracks this _morning_.”

Whenever he could find him away from a mission, Natsume hanged around the young Leo Tsukinaga in times before the crown was his, all while interrupting his very brief periods to rest or standing in the way of his early swing or archery practices. The surprised and scandalized looks from the other knights did not faze him at all, and thankfully, Leo didn’t seem to mind either, always glad to talk to a fellow eccentric--or to anyone at all, as he too shared the status of a loner and a foreigner. Natsume had seen him first-hand in battle when he was first taken from his home at Valkyrie Castle, and he believed Leo’s unpopularity was all about how scary he was with a sword in comparison to his childlike personality.

Though that had been a shocking sight, It honestly made Natsume all the more intrigued about him than anything, which was another thing Leo seemed to appreciate.

“Oh...hey there, Tsume! I probably was still sleeping in or something!” The green-eyed knight greeted, playful, “Aren’t you supposed to be in your room right now or something?”

“Not at all _times_ ,” Natsume went, annoyed, “I am not a child, mind you. Besides, this is technically _my_ castle as well, so I should not answer to schedules.”

“Eh. I probably don’t actually have to listen to someone other than the king, but okay, whatever you say…” Leo put away his wooden sword, and faced Natsume with an easy smile. “What brings you to the stinky and sweaty training grounds, anyway?”

Natsume looked away.

“Nothing in particular. I just wanted a change of scenery from the dungeons, and you are the least dull person to talk to out of the people I _happened_ to find after such a long scouting.”

“Aww, little Tsume missed me!” Leo exclaimed, leaning to ruffle the young Oracle’s hair, “That’s so cute!”

“W-What did I say about _not_ being a child! I’m almost as tall as you--” Natsume glared, though he didn’t make too big of an effort to move out of his way, “I will _curse_ you one of these days if you keep being so disrespectful.”

“Wahaha~ there, there, no need to be so shy, you’re even blushing!”

“I am not _shy_ nor _blushing_ ,” Natsume protested, blushing red as his hair. He finally stepped back a little, glaring up at the older boy. “If you’re going to be this _irritating_ , I might as well just go back to my chambers.”

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry~!” Leo cooed, not sounding sorry at all as he pressed his hands together in a mock apology. “I can’t help myself if you’re acting like that, you know! You usually seem so confident and serious it’s always funny to see how quickly you get flustered!”

Natsume scoffed.

“I could spend the entire morning explaining why you are wrong, but I am already aware of how thick that skull of yours is... so I will not _bother_.”

“I mean...even if you were right, fair enough.” Leo grinned, and reached out with an inviting hand. “Hey, wanna get out of here? I’m bored of practice and missed breakfast so I could really use the Mighty Oracle’s influence to get some good leftovers, haha!”

“I am not your ticket to better _treatment_ ,” Natsume said, taking Leo’s hand regardless. “But I suppose I cannot decline if you are so good at glorifying my title.”

Leo’s grin was as shameless as it was toothy.

“That’s the spirit!”

Such a casual attitude would probably irritate most noblemen, but Natsume wasn’t like them. In fact, it was the very reason he was so fond of the young knight; the looks people gave them whenever they went about their business were honestly the most amusement he could ever find anywhere besides the castle’s restricted library and hidden rooms. Not to mention Leo talked to him as if he was a friend; something the young Oracle couldn’t quite say he’d ever found in anyone yet between his tedious studies and his constant moving around by his elder brother’s mysterious whims.

He considered as much as he half-listened to whatever Leo went on about on their way to the kitchens; there was no denying their relationship was special, was there? And if the squeeze Leo gave his hand every time he held it like this was anything to go by, it was possible that he felt the same. After all, Natsume always made it clear...he knew every ugly thing about Leo and how broken and mangled he truly was by his role as a knight and how much he would be by future positions of power, and he still accepted him. He should be rewarded for that.

The point was that, regardless of what they had, they had _something_ , and Natsume wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

\--

If Natsume didn’t think there was tension between him and Leo before, he most certainly did later on, his feelings stirring on into something consistent and noticeable as Leo started taking a more prominent role in his life. It was hard to ignore how the knight came more and more often to him with all his thoughts and problems, and most importantly, how he started starring in many of his visions regarding war and battlegrounds.

All that Natsume knew with time was that Leo was important to the kingdom. And, soon enough, to him.

Even if there was that tiny annoying detail to deal with:

Leo's inability to shut up about his lover from the west coast.

...Oh, yes. It was probably worth mentioning Leo already had a lover by the time Natsume realized his affections for him; a young lord named Eichi Tenshouin, a relationship so insufferable it came with sickening pet names and everything, so it was always  _Tenshi this, Tenshi that_ most times Leo opened his mouth.

It probably would’ve discouraged anyone to think so highly of someone already promised to another, but Natsume believed his connection to Leo was the work of destiny, and that destiny was stronger than anything--and that perhaps this sickly boy on the other side of the map was just another of Leo’s whims and nothing to worry about.

Because...there’s no way Leo would’ve done for this boy what he’d done for him besides being his one connection to the Sakuma residence in the tiring times his elder brother seemed to become less and less human.

\--

 

After the castle grounds had become boring and too dangerous for more daring conversations, the two redheads had sneaked into the city with a promise of time off and a chance to properly talk. It was a stupid idea from the get-go, but Natsume didn't care, starry-eyed and excited at the prospect of stepping out of the cold and dark castle-grounds if only for a little time.

The day had been perfect enough that Natsume even managed to sneak in flirting and didn’t seem _that_ mad or jealous when it was brushed away with Eichi’s irritating little nickname. All that mattered was Leo’s company and a bit of hope that darkness and solitude weren’t everything in Natsume’s future.

The night, however, wasn’t quite as good.

As it turned out, stealing the Oracle away from the king didn’t do well for anyone--not even the Oracle himself.

No matter how hard Natsume pleaded and apologized for Leo’s sake, the deteriorating demon King saw no reason, only punishment.

It was the first time Natsume had ever witnessed whipping, and he hoped to everything it was the last.

 

 --

The next time Natsume saw Leo face to face after the unfortunate incident was, as usual, a surprise.

“Psst.”

A groggy Natsume barely bothered to open his eyes, thinking he was being visited by one of Rei’s knights; and he was right, kind of.

He blinked up, confused to find Leo Tsukinaga on his bedroom. Which was locked.

“Naga--”

Leo slapped his hand to Natsume’s mouth, and the Oracle’s ungraceful, muffled yelling filled up the room in no time. The knight seemed to laugh slightly as he shushed the younger boy.

“Shh!! I’m not supposed to be here--!”

Natsume jerked away from his hand, replying in infuriated whispers.

“Then what the _hell_ are you doing here!?”

Leo’s laughed again, but it was quieter. Strained.

“The king’s hungry again…”

Such a vague statement would’ve meant nothing to most--but that, and the way Leo seemed to unconsciously rub at his neck was all Natsume needed to quiet down.

“... _Oh._ ”

An usual, unfortunate ritual between the Demon King and his favorite knight. Natsume immediately quieted down at the realization that not only had this happened again, but that it was beginning to get more often. The knight sighed. 

“Yeah…I can’t really deal with that right now.” Leo tried a smile, but it only came off as tired. “So I was wondering if I could camp here for a while? I told a guard I had errands to run so nobody would look for me and you’re always complaining that the staff never approaches you, so…”

“Yeah--yes, you can _stay_.” Natsume nodded along, and grimaced when he took a good look at Leo’s current state--disheveled and restless. Another look that was starting to become regular. “Gods, even the music around you is _awful_ right now...”

“...Yep. I know.”

The knight didn’t add anything to that and simply plopped down on the nearest couch he could find, groaning softly to himself. Natsume wasn’t quite sure what to do with that, as the sleepiness went away as soon as Leo revealed his reasons for being there. With that, uncomfortable memories rushed back in, and the Oracle frowned.

“ _Listen_ , Naga-kun…”

“Mhm?” Leo didn’t really open his eyes. “I’m listening, don’t worry. Just resting my eyes.”

Natsume sighed.

“Your _back_.”

“...What about it?”

Ouch, he sounded so deflated. Natsume went on, regardless.

“I should have done more about it, I--” He stood up from bed, restless. “I had never seen niisan get like _that_ on his own men. I had no idea he was even capable of that if I protested so much, so I--”

To his horror, Leo actually interrupted him with a dry laugh.

“That’s ‘cuz he only shows his nice side to you, Tsume...and even so, that’s not as bad as he actually gets. You should see him with the people he thinks are his enemies.”

Such a thought made Natsume sick to his stomach, but he pushed it away for the time being.

“I know. I know he is not...the _best_ , right now. But if I stay around, I can make him better. I can make him happy and make sure none of this happens _again_.”

“Oh, that’s good for you…”

The dismissive, tired voice shook Natsume more than the words themselves. He walked over to Leo and loomed over him, an angry resolve in his eyes.

“I mean it. I _will_ make things change around here.”

At this, Leo only popped one eye open.

“Not to be rude or anything...but I’m pretty sure he’s beyond just changing right now. He’s really old by now, right?”

“But if anybody can do anything at all, it is I--” Natsume tried, pretty much desperate to be heard, “I am the Oracle-- _his_ Oracle. He does so much for me, so if I know when or how to ask him, I am certain things _will_ be better for you.”

Leo’s face remained as flat.

“I really appreciate that, but…  it’s okay. As long as I get to rest and if I can see Tenshi every now and then-”

“ _Fuck_ Tenshouin!”

That’s the first time Leo’s expression changed--not out of anger or indignation, but shock. He actually sat up, startled by the emotion in Natsume’s voice, and stared up at the Oracle, who remained standing right before him.

“Tsume, what-”

“I mean it. Things would be so much _easier_ if you realized already--” Natsume was frowning, and his hands touched Leo’s shoulders, fingers enclosing lightly on the fabric of his tunic. “Naga-kun, we are so much _alike._  We’re both supposed to obey fate without a word, but fate can be so tiresome. So _unfair._ ”

Leo squinted up.

“I know that, yeah, but-”

“ _So_ ,” Natsume pressed on, his hands crawling up Leo’s neck, his fingers slowly touching his cheeks, “We do not have to endure it alone. We get it better than anyone, so…”

Instead of finishing his sentence, Natsume leaned down, eyes fluttering closed.

He waited for a moment for the feeling of  Leo’s lips against his, but nothing came--and he impatiently opened his eyes, finding only Leo’s unreadable, serious expression.

If he had to guess, Natsume would’ve said Leo was _considering_ this.

But... that was as far as he was getting.

The tired knight finally opened his mouth to sigh deeply.

“Uh…” Leo mumbled, looking away. “I’m...sorry, Tsume. You got the wrong idea here…”

Natsume could feel his blood run cold and his heart sinking into the pits of his stomach all at once, but he remained in place, only frowning a little more.

“But the _punishment_ you endured…” He tried, his voice quiet but insistent, “That was just for my sake, was it not?”

“Yeah, but…” Leo, for once, had the tact to sound gentle about this. He placed his hands over Natsume’s to slowly remove them from his face. “I care about you, there’s no denying that. But you’re my good and only friend in the capital, Tsume. That’s how I’ve seen it.”

_Friend._

Needless to say, that’s the only thing Natsume heard clearly in Leo’s words, and the main motivation needed to properly back away. Leo didn’t seem too pleased by the whole situation either, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck when the Oracle was properly standing in front of him, green eyes cast to the ground.

“...Listen, I can find somewhere else to crash tonight, so-”

“No, that is-- _fine_ ,” Natsume quickly said, waving a hand, and also looking away. “I already agreed. You can _stay_.”

Leo didn't seem so comfortable with that, but nodded anyway.

“Thanks, I guess…”

“Mm. Not a _problem_.”

But there was one, and they both knew it very well.

The tense silence between every sentence was more than proof of it, and when Leo tried to break it, Natsume simply made way back to his bed, exaggerating a yawn to make it sound loud and noticeable.

“Well--I was sleeping before you got here, so if you will excuse me, I need to keep _resting_.”

“Uh--” Leo hesitated, but ended up closing his eyes tightly to hold himself back. There was probably plenty he wanted to say, but he sighed instead, seeming grateful he'd get to put this off for good without a fight. “Yeah...okay. Alright.”

“Yes. You know where to get blankets and spare clothes if you need _them_.”

“Right…”

Natsume still couldn’t look at him in the eye, even if he could tell just by the sound of his voice that Leo had more to say--or that he was guilty, at the very least. So he did what he could only say now, curling up on his side to finally get to pretending to sleep:

“Have a good _night_ , Naga-kun.”

There was no forced reply.

And next morning, there was no Leo.

 

\---

 

Things were different from then on.

Though Leo had been gracious enough to remain Natsume’s constant visitor and even seemed to become kinder towards him, he’d very pointedly stopped spending the night at his room. Even when Natsume noticed shifts in Rei’s mood and suggested a hideout, the knight would just thank him, brush it off and stay elsewhere, each new hideout more complicated than the last.

It was frustrating, to say the least, but Natsume couldn’t complain. There was no room for that when Leo talked to him at all after that fiasco of a confession, if that’s what that event even was. The only good thing about the distance was that Natsume actually had time to try to be introspective about his feelings and actions and it made him finally come to terms with the questions he'd been avoiding since the start:

What did he even try to accomplish with kissing his friend? Did he actually like Leo as a person, or just his company? Did he even want a relationship with him, or just a ticket to a drunk party story that could make him feel part of a group?

All of that plagued Natsume for a while, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough time for his impatient attitude and lack of self awareness for him to properly ever answer any of it.

Especially with what was soon to happen to him:

A while after the rejection, Leo had not only been kinder, but busier. Besides the usual training time and missions, Leo was summoned to by the king’s side more than ever, and if the spark in his eyes and good humor was already seeming a little lost, the constant audiences with Rei made it all almost non-existent; there wasn’t even room for fake smiles and laughter, just tiredness.

Natsume noticed as much, and though it could’ve been easy to just use his abilities to look into the past or the future to know what was happening, he couldn’t. The truth was scary, and if it was like all the other things in his life, it was going to be inevitable.

And inevitable it was.

 

\--

 

“Tsume--Tsume! Come out right now!”

The insistent knocks threw Natsume off a lot less than Leo’s desperate tone. After a while of not catching much emotion out of the knight, he was suddenly yelling out his name as if his life depended on it. Natsume quickly opened the door for his friend, unable to mask his surprise and concern.

“Naga-kun, what-”

“No time to explain! All you need to use your power is a touch, right?”

“Yes-?”

Leo grabbed his hand, and in a rush, Natsume knew what was coming next.

His eyes grew wide right then, and he let go so abruptly of Leo’s hand it was as if he had been burned. The concern in his expression was instantly replaced by rage.

“No, absolutely _not_! I am _not_ doing this again!”

Leo seemed like he was expecting the outburst, and held out his hand once more, insistent.

“We don’t have any time to argue, we got a real tight schedule to work with!”

“I do _not_ care--” Natsume stepped back, glaring. “I already made my life _here_! I am _not_ starting over from scratch, I have things to do here!”

Leo scoffed at that.

“What, like watching from up close as the king gets more and more mad?”

Natsume glared knives at him.

 _"Quiet_ , I already told you-”

“I’m sorry to break it to you, Tsume, but the king isn’t getting any better regardless of you being around!”

That stung a lot more than Natsume thought it did, and it showed with the crack in both his expression and his voice.

“That is _not_ -”

“It is!” Leo actually stepped towards him to place his hands on Natsume’s tense, trembling shoulders. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to keep yelling, but he actually took a little moment before sighing to soften both his look and expression.

“I’m...really sorry, but that’s how it is, Tsume. If you stay here it’s only gonna make things worse for you.”

Natsume was now the one who scoffed, eyes looking anywhere but Leo’s.

“The only way they could get worse would be if I was even _more_ isolated than I currently am, and I want you to take a guess on what you are trying to make me do, here.”

Leo’s expression was guilty, and he reluctantly let go of Natsume’s shoulders to also look at the side, bashful.

“I know, I know… it’s not like we enjoyed planning this, though...”

The word ‘we’ made Natsume frown harder.

“ _He_ is...already here, is he not?”

Leo nodded tightly.

“Yeah… and we’re gonna make him wait if we don’t hurry up.”

 _He_ was Wataru.

Wataru, whom Natsume had tried to contact for so long, whom he did not remember seeing since so long ago--he who could’ve helped him, prepared him for this, but didn’t in favor of surprising and one-upping Rei, just as Rei had done when he took him from Shu. It was the same damn story all over again.

Natsume closed his eyes and breathed out a trembly, uncertain sigh. He should’ve probably been used to having his entire life planned behind his back at this point, but it still hurt to realize that was the case. He looked at his room, and tried hard not to think how part of himself was kind of relieved at this turnout--he was finally going to see his other siblings for sure with this, and he was going to see scenery besides the cold castle, but at what cost?

He was silent for so long that Leo stepped in again, holding Natsume’s hand with gentle but firm urgency, and a little tug.

“Tsume, come on…”

Leo probably didn’t mean to make Natsume see or sense more with this action, but the Oracle that resided within Natsume felt a lot with just that--sadness, desperation, guilt and regret all at once. Feeling that much made Natsume reaffirm the one thing he has actually known all along:

It wasn’t that the realm was trying to go against Natsume’s wishes for the fun of it--this was just the way things were meant to be.

He wasn’t the one to fix things, just a mean to get someone else do it. Nothing better than a bargaining chip or a crystal ball, despite his supposed importance to everyone around him.

He sighed one last time, defeated, and Leo tugged once more.

“Tsume…?”

“... _To hell with it_ ,” Natsume muttered, looking down in such a manner that his expression was darkened and unreadable. “Fine. If it must be this way, I will go, and once there, I will settle down as quietly as _possible_.”

For the first time since he got there, Leo seemed relieved. He was already starting to move as he spoke up.

“Okay, then let’s go right now, I-”

“ _However_ ,” Natsume interrupted, still so steady in place he accidentally pulled Leo back, “I want to leave one thing perfectly clear.”

“Yeah...?”

Natsume looked up, angry tears already all the way down his chin.

“I _will_ complain all the way to that fucking beach.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This specific chapter was made with and for my friend Vii, the co-author of the kingdom au this whole story is based on! a few scenes here were made very vague and general because they tie in to the main story of realm of oaths, and are scenes viimike themselves touch on in detail, so i encourage you to give it a read! 
> 
> (https://archiveofourown.org/works/15074720/chapters/34950173 )
> 
> Vii was kind enough to answer a lot of really detailed questions, proof-read the whole thing, revise that the events shown were in line with the events of the au AND helped me write Leo all in one, so a huge HUGE shoutout and thank you so much!!  
> and now that im here, thanks also to all the people leaving kudos and especially those who leave comments! you inspire me and you are the reason this story keeps going! ill see you all next time ♥


	11. Conversations

Autumn in the Old Lands is, so far, better than summer.

Not only has the sun actually gotten bearable enough to be able to stay in the beach for more than an hour without sunburn, but the season has gotten to be the time to see the wilderness behind the hut change into beautiful shades of gold and orange and red. Such a palette seems to have brightened Natsume’s mood and energy, and it makes Tsumugi figure out that part of the reason he looked and acted so grumpy since his arrival was a simple distaste for summer.  

And, well, the fact that Natsume had a distaste for him as a person also helped, but hey, at least it wasn’t _all_ him.

If anything, ever since that incident with the kidnapping and that embarrassing night crying in Natsume’s arms, Tsumugi couldn’t help but notice changes in things besides the trees: The residents in the hut acted more as an unit than ever--it was rare that they split up as they did before, with that old accidental routine of Sora hanging out with Natsume or Tsumugi while the other spent time alone. Now they did a lot of the chores and studying together, and amazingly enough, Natsume hasn’t really locked himself in his room as of late. All was well.

...Okay, maybe not _all_. There still is the fact that Tsumugi remains pretty bad at magic so far, now being advanced enough to memorize the theory of it all but still shaky at best with the practice. His first attempts at potions were acceptable, and his reading and understanding of old texts impeccable, but charms themselves...still baby steps. Even Wataru’s advice is difficult to follow because thinking of it makes Tsumugi think of him, then of doves, and then his last letter.

Regarding that letter, Tsumugi has been...accepting. Not happy about it, but not manic either- he hasn’t tried risking his life since his last attempt, and that is improvement on itself.

The quietness of a routine lasts all the way until their next visit, about two months later.

 

\--

Sora is grinning devilishly at his hand of cards, and Tsumugi can only laugh nervously at such a sight-- and at his own set of mismatched, unusable and stacked plays.

“Something tells me the game is ending soon…I’ll just pass my turn.”

Sora’s grin only gets wider at his defeated words and obvious retreat.

“Maybe! We got Master’s turn still, so who knows~!”

No matter how encouraging his statement is, Natsume can’t help but frown at his own hand--far lower in number than Tsumugi’s, but just as useless if his unsatisfied stare is anything to go by.

“...Not _really_.”

“Shouldn’t there be something you could do if you’re at your limit?” Tsumugi asks Natsume, amused, “Being the Oracle and all…”

“Are you insinuating I could use my vision for playing _cards_?”

Tsumugi shrugs, smiling. Natsume rolls his eyes.

“There are many perks and powers to being the guardian of the old lands and the Oracle, but simple luck or intuition is _not_ one of them.” Natsume explains, and then gestures towards Sora’s shiny, beaming smile. “This one here, however…”

“Sora takes it Master will pass as well?”

“ _Correct_.”

Sora shows a final toothy smile before putting his entire hand down to reveal his best and most devastating win so far. Natsume and Tsumugi seem unsurprised when they let their unfavorable hands down, but it’s pretty evident they’ve been beaten enough for their egos to be just the slightest bit hurt by consistently being dragged to the dust by the only child in the house. The little boy laughs in delight, already picking up the scattered cards to shuffle the deck again.

“Who wants to go again!”

“I _shall_.” Natsume says without thinking. Tsumugi is having a hard time figuring out if the oracle is going along to keep Sora happy or if he wants a win that bad-- or both. Either way, he himself doesn’t get to finish an answer:

“Well, I think I’ll-”

**Knock, knock.**

The three of them fall into a sudden silence to take a good look at each other-- they were all home, so that could only mean…

“One of my niisan-?” Natsume blurts out, oblivious to how hopeful he sounded. Tsumugi couldn’t help but share a smile with Sora at that.

“Maybe lord Hibiki?” Tsumugi offers, “He did say he would try to visit as soon as he could.”

“Oh, Sora hopes so! Lord Hibiki could join us for our next round, he’s very good with cards!”

“And maybe the only one who can stand up to _you_.” Natsume adds, and sits up, “I shall answer the door.”

“Shouldn’t I?” Tsumugi asks, and the Oracle shakes his head at him.

“No--I _want_ to greet him first.”

Seeing Natsume so motivated only made Tsumugi smile a little more.

“Alright...I’ll just heat up some water to make tea, then.”

Natsume looks like he’s briefly hesitating to say something else, but the knocks are heard again, this time more insistent. With that, the redhead just steps to the front door and Tsumugi quickly makes his way to the cupboards to retrieve mugs. Sora pouts at him from the table, still shuffling and rearranging the cards in the deck.

“Master wanted to thank you…”

Tsumugi laughs a little as he picks up and puts away each mug, not really paying attention to the boy’s tone.

“I’m not doing anything, though, so he doesn’t need to.”

“Sora thinks otherwise!” Sora adds, a little more insistent, “You’re nice to him so he tries to be nice right back.”

“He’s always been nice, though.”

Sora’s pout comes back, and he puts away his cards to cross his arms at Tsumugi.

“Nicer than usual, Sir...do you really not notice?”

The man struggles to find a fourth mug, and once he does, he turns to look at Sora, his expression the slightest bit surprised at Sora’s unusual stubbornness.

“I mean...a little? He has looked in a lighter mood... I don’t think it’s specifically for me, though.”

For a moment, Sora just stares. Then, he sighs lightly.

“Sora thinks it’s the opposite…”

“What, do you know something I don’t?”

The boy’s expression turns childishly serious--but such determination is something Tsumugi can only register as endearing and, for the moment, not such a big deal.

“Sora won’t tell...this is the kind of thing Sir has to realize himself!”

“My...okay, I can try.” He hums, now turning his back to fetch the water needed for the tea, “I’ll come to you when I think I got it, how does that sound?”

“It sounds alright, but Sir has to seriously think about it!”

“Ahaha, sorry, I’m kind of focused on getting the herbs ready for the lord…”

Sora looks honestly a little annoyed by such treatment, but after a moment of discomfort, he closes his eyes and sighs lighty--clearly too understanding of the situation to actually let it get to him. He shakes his head at Tsumugi as if he were his elder and not the other way around.

“Okay, Sora will give Sir time to let it sink in…”

Tsumugi chuckles at his stern tone.

“Thank you, thank you.”

The moment to give a little thought to Sora’s words would’ve been now, but Natsume abruptly comes into the room with a very tight expression-- the complete opposite to his excitement just a minute ago. Sora and Tsumugi give him a concerned look as soon as they notice.

“Master?” Sora calls, blinking up. Natume pinches the bridge of his nose, looking a little stressed.

“That...was _not_ Wataru-niisan at the door.”

“Then who-?”

Sora’s question is interrupted when the door opens once more--in walks not one, but three total strangers to Tsumugi, who stares in bewilderment at them all:

Holding on to heavy luggage at the front  is a skinny young man roughly Natsume’s age, with messy black hair and mismatched eyes, one golden and one teal. If that isn’t notorious enough to any onlooker, his clothes most definitely are--an exquisitely designed and intricate dark coat with scarlet accents and frills that instead of seeming out of place with his rougher hair and face, accentuate it, making him look handsome and proper.

Behind him walks in a girl, a teenager just barely older than Sora; despite being the shortest person in the room, her long golden hair and perfect posture bring out an air of maturity and feminine charm that compares and even outshines most maidens Tsumugi has ever met. Regardless of that, though, the girl's eyes are kind, their emerald color contrasting beautifully with her dress, a black and scarlet match to that of her companion.

Finally, the most noticeable presence of them all: a tall man who makes his way into the room walking closely behind the girl, definitely the oldest of the trio. His lilac eyes remind Tsumugi of Wataru’s, but they’re sharp and severe in contrast to the magician’s friendly gaze. His short rose-colored hair is unusual but lovely, and though his clothes are also matching with his companions in color and design, something about him screams and demands a lot more elegance, poise and structure than the other two--like he is walking, breathing perfection.

An astonished Tsumugi washes in the feeling he gets when being in this man’s proximity-- it’s a similar allure that Wataru and Natsume had on him the very first time he met them, and with just that he knows exactly who he is looking at.

“Lord Itsuki and company!” Sora exclaims as he gets up, voicing Tsumugi’s thoughts from Natsume's stories. “It’s been so long!”

“Or perhaps too _soon_...” Natsume mumbles.

For a moment, Tsumugi wonders why Natsume seems and sounds so uncomfortable--isn’t Lord Shu Itsuki dear to him? It’s not like they’re on bad terms, so why--

“You there.” Lord Shu speaks directly at him, his low voice and glare creeping on Tsumugi like a shiver. “Look me in the eye.”

...Oh. Tsumugi himself is the reason, isn’t he?

So he says nothing back--he just obeys, immediately meeting the lord’s eyes. Shu approaches him with a slow step, his heeled boots clicking loud and clear in the tense atmosphere of the hut. The lord wastes no time circling Tsumugi, even going as far as grabbing his chin to lift it to inspect him even closer still.

“Uh--” Tsumugi manages, and after a moment of realization, Shu lets go of him, eyes wide.

“You are--” Incredulous, he looks at Natsume. “You have _got_ to be kidding me.”

“I am _not_ one for jokes, niisan.” Natsume replies, looking to the nearest wall.

“M'lord?” The black-haired man speaks up now, placing a concerned hand on Shu’s shoulder, “All good?”

“I--” Shu looks like he’s about to make a scene, but when his eyes find the young girl’s concerned and confused expression, he makes a very visible effort to take a breath to calm down. Then, he clears his throat.

“M’lord...?” The young man repeats. Shu waves his hand, dismissing.

“This man just seemed...very familiar.” He says. “Dreadful manners on my part, I apologize.”

Despite saying so, he wasn’t even looking at Tsumugi--so he knows he wasn’t the one being addressed with apologies. Nevertheless, he does a little bow towards the lord.

“You can do as you please, lord Itsuki.”

Shu doesn’t really care much for the courtesy, but his companions now approach Tsumugi as well.

“Hey, hey.” The young man calls, “Do you and m’lord know each other or something? Why are you calling his title so easily?”

“Ah, well…” Tsumugi looks away, smiling nervously. “Natsu--”

Almost speaking up the name so casually earns him identical glares from both Shu and Natsume--he figures they stare like that for entirely different reasons, Natsume in warning and Shu in discontent, but both make him yelp and clear his throat.

“I mean-! The Oracle and Sora-kun tell me a lot about the lords is all… so I just guessed.”

It’s a poor and very vague explanation, but the man seems satisfied, nodding along to it.

“I see...I guess he never mentioned us, then?”

At this, the girl finally makes a sound--a dainty and delicate chuckle.

“Mika-chan, there’s no reason he would…we’re not important enough for that, remember?”

Shu seems unnerved by such a statement, and looks down at the girl with very obvious alarm.

“No, that isn’t--!”

“I know, I know,” the girl quickly smiles, teasing but gentle, “I’m just trying to lighten the mood a little, father.”

The word ‘father’ makes Tsumugi’s eyebrows rise. Shu certainly looks old enough to have children, but it is plain to see that he shares no physical resemblance at all to the young lady. It makes Tsumugi figure on the spot that she either takes entirely after her mother, or that their relationship isn’t one bound by blood. Either way, he’s caught staring at the girl, which is received with Shu glaring daggers at him. The girl notices as well just in time to catch Tsumugi yelping, and giggles behind her hand.

“Well...who is this mysterious man who interests my dear father so much, anyways?” She asks, curious. “A companion like Sora-chan?”

“He is the house’s _librarian_.” Natsume quickly says, back to turning his look literally anywhere but whoever is talking to him. “He started living here during the beginnings of _summer_.”

“He also helps Sora with chores!” Sora pipes in, and the girl seems delighted with the reply.

“My, then I suppose introductions are in order!” She says, enthusiastic. She takes the edges of her dress to bow down with a curtsy that is somehow both adorable and regal:

“I am Mademoiselle Itsuki, heiress to the Valkyrie castle in the mountainside of the new lands. It is lovely to meet you.”

“L-Likewise, my lady.” Tsumugi stutters--this would be part where he’d bow down to kiss her hand, but he figures Shu would try to cut his tongue off if he tried, so he settles for bowing down as well. Seeing this, the dark-haired man followed through, stepping in to also bow.

“And I’m Mika Kagehira, companion and servant to m’lord and the little lady.” He says, obvious pride in his voice. “It’s nice to meetcha’!”

The little shifts in speech made Tsumugi smile a little easier--Mika is clearly someone who isn’t born regal but still seems very devoted to his current position. He can relate to that.

“Nice to meet you too, Kagehira-kun.”

“Alright, pleasant to see everyone-” Shu goes, loud enough to be heard over everybody else, “it was a very tiring trip and I think we all could dine.” He then very pointedly stares at Natsume. “You and I could catch up while everybody else takes care of food.”

“ _Well_ …” Natsume tries, but Sora, quickly understanding his discomfort, comes between them.

“In this house, every hut resident helps with dinner,” He states, smiling pleasantly. “Even master who is so royal, and even Sora who is so little! So maybe that talk can be left for later? Sora bets even lord Itsuki must be tired, so he should rest!”

“Oh, I can actually help with dinner…” Mika says, oblivious to Shu trying to protest, “I’m not that tired. Besides, nobody knows what the little lady and M’lord like better than me!”

Shu looks like he’s growing increasingly hesitant against the idea, but now even his daughter looks stirred up by the talk of cooking.

“If you gentlemen would all direct me, I could help as well! I would feel dreadful to leave a feast for six to just the residents of the house and for Mika-chan to work alone--we did come in unannounced, after all.”

“Then it’s settled!” Sora declares, cheerful, “Sir and I will help everyone make a nice dinner, right?”

“Um-” Tsumugi is suddenly the center of attention, and he can feel his shoulders go stiff with tension. He nods quickly. “R-Right!”

He could’ve sworn he caught Natsume snorting into his hand at such a squirmish reply and at Shu’s totally defeated expression, but he’s far too shaken to really register anything other than Sora’s orders and trying to avoid Shu’s glare as they all set up to make the meal--even the lord, who is pretty much morally obligated to join them now.

 

\--

 

Dinner goes really pleasantly or really uncomfortable-- It just depends on who’s perspective one is looking from. Tsumugi, Natsume and Shu are obviously tense, but the rest of the residents are either oblivious (Mika) or too polite to be anything but pleasant from preparation to actually dining (Sora and Mademoiselle).

They eat while the last three pull forward a nice conversation- Mika and Mademoiselle talk about their trip from the mountainside to the old lands, cheerfully retelling complications and their surprise at the weather and the sights they got to experience right as they stepped out from their ship, with Sora asking questions and making commentary nonstop. Shu only adds on details when asked by either of his companions, but he mostly spends his dinner staring at Tsumugi, who can only look down at his food and try to add to the conversation while pretending he’s not feeling stabbed by Shu’s uncomfortable glare. Natsume is like a mix between them, both quietly glaring at his food and at Shu for being so insistent and transparent with his discomfort.

When the dinner is over and conversation is finally dying down in the final stages of cleaning up, Tsumugi can’t help but feel dread when Shu takes a stand. The lord looks around for Mademoiselle, and kneels a little to be at his daughter’s level.

“My dear,” He says, his voice surprisingly gentler than ever, “Weren’t you telling me you were eager to have the little one show you charms and tricks?”

The girl’s eyes light up.

“Hadn’t you said you didn’t want me near witchcraft, father?”

“I said I don’t want you casting anything, but I have no problem if you just observe. Can you do that for me?”

Mademoiselle smiles brightly before nodding and making a quick curtsy to her father, to which he nods in approval. She looks at Sora.

“Can you please let me see some magic, then?”

Sora glances quickly at Natsume--as if to quickly apologize for not being able to stall any longer--, before nodding back at her.

“Uh--sure! Sora will put together a nice show!”

“Excellent, thank you so much!”

The two youngsters then leave the room to walk into Sora’s, and the very second the door shuts, Shu’s soft look is replaced by his usual seriousness. He stands up and looks right at Mika.

“Kagehira.”

Mika just tilts his head, unfazed at his master’s sternness.

“Yes, m’lord?”

“I need to talk to Natsume in private,” He says, now also turning to look at Tsumugi, much to the latter one’s distress, “So if you two could leave the kitchen to us-”

“Absolutely _not_ ,” Natsume quickly says, stepping between them.  “I do not want to have a serious conversation right where everybody will be able to hear. If we are to talk we might as well just go to my _chambers_.”

“Ah...finally.” Shu allows himself a small and satisfied smile, “Something we can both agree to.”

“Let us just _go_ already.”

“After you.”

Natsume begins making way to his room, but when he notices Tsumugi is on the way, he takes the opportunity to spare him a little glance as the librarian takes a little step to the side. Tsumugi has no idea how to interpret the look Natsume is giving him, but something about it gives him a sense of relief--like Natsume is willing to take care of this mess regardless of his discomfort. “ _Leave this to me_ ”, it seems to say.

It is with that that the two guardians retire into Natsume’s room, and Tsumugi is left with Mika, who gives him a short but expectant glance. Thinking of the way the situation is already being handled, Tsumugi is able to  confidently fix his expression into a friendly smile.

“So...Kagehira-kun, was it?” He asks, and gestures for the basement door. “Would you like to see our humble book collection while everyone else is busy?”

 

\---

 

Shu doesn’t even make it to a couch before he starts voicing his discomfort.

“Alright, Natsume.” He starts, while making his way into the big room, “Help me understand why you think it makes even a lick of sense for you to be giving shelter to the man who tried murdering Leo Tsukinaga-- I hope it’s a good reason.”

Natsume, already sitting on the edge of his bed, just sighs.

“He _failed_ at it. And the little knight he struck down instead ended up surviving in the end, so I see no problem.”

“There is a mountain of problems!” Shu exclaims, walking in circles around the furniture to keep his anxious and unsettled body moving. “That was no small stunt Aoba pulled-- the capital--no, the whole kingdom turned into a complete disaster with all the events that came after that! A disaster I have to help clean up even now that things sort of settled--Tsukinaga has gone missing and hasn’t turned up yet, and while his knight lives, he remains bedridden. Do you know how much trouble Aoba has caused _me_ alone with what he did?”

“I am well aware of everything that happens in this kingdom, including Naga-kun’s ongoing story of ruining his reputation with each new choice he takes as _king_ ,” Natsume mutters, a pinch of guilt in his tone, “I just… do not think anything would have been different if that man downstairs was caught the night of the assassination attempt. Not even if he is taken into justice _now_ , because Naga-kun would have still lost his head over that _knight_. Nothing will be solved with death at this point, so that former assassin might as well do something _worthwhile_ with his life.”

“Why here of all places, though, right where you are to remain hidden?” Shu goes, insistent, “This...who even allowed this arrangement, Wataru?”

The latter question makes Natsume glare at the wall.

“This is my home, you know,  and I am an _adult_. _I_ am the one who allowed it, and that is all there is to it.”

Shu stops on his tracks, looking a little guilty himself now.

“Natsume, you know---”

“It is the _least_ I can have if my destiny is to live in this beach forever, is it not?” Natsume asks, “I think I have earned as much.”

“It’s nothing against you, I just…” He pauses, and upon being unable to really justify himself, he huffs and finally sits down on the long couch at the foot of Natsume’s bed. His sigh is heavy.

“Gods. This is just awful...Why Tsumugi Aoba, of all people?” He groans.”I think I’m going to get sick.”

Though Natsume rolls his eyes at such a nasty sentiment, he’s actually not all that angry. He knows he’s putting Shu in a tight spot and that his reasoning for keeping around a personal enemy of his isn’t helping all that much, but he’s satisfied to see that the lord is actually more worried than upset with the situation, and that helps him relax a lot more. He looks at Shu with a little smirk.

“This is why nobody likes telling you things, _niisan_.”

Shu just groans once more into his hands, and Natsume, unable to really stay mad or discontent in his presence, actually gets up to join him in the couch, sitting next to him and quickly getting to making little circles on his back to help him calm down. This situation is familiar to him-- a little Natsume would sit and listen to Shu’s woes, and though he wouldn’t understand most of them, then a child, he’d do everything in his power to help his elder brother find a moment’s peace. Shu hasn’t changed in that aspect, and such a thing is comforting even now.

“Come on, niisan... All is _well_. I know what I’m doing.”

“No, you don't.” Shu goes, distressed, “You are living with a murderer, for heaven’s sake-- How are you and the little one not constantly fearing for your lives?”

Natsume chuckles- the mere idea of fearing someone like Tsumugi feels way too silly now.

“He is not--at least not anymore, like I said. You would be surprised to know what he is _truly_ like.”

“I don’t particularly care-” Shu gasps in realization, and removes his hands to look at Natsume. “Wait, so the fabric I sent you during the summer--”

“Oh.” Natsume’s smile is devilish. “It was for _him_ , yes.”

“Natsume!” Shu protests, to which the redhead is actually laughing, enjoying his reactions. The man narrows his eyes, serious, “This is no joke!”

“That is _exactly_ why this is so amusing--” Natsume grins, “I swear on the realm, the music, on you and and my other niisan...there is nothing to fear. And if you feel _that_ uneasy, you might as well visit me more often to rest easy, how does that sound?”

Shu sighs again.

“You know I can’t do that right now.”

“Then _trust_ me, will you?” Natsume asks, still rubbing his back. Shu gives him a frown.

“I really want to, believe me, I just… can’t process your reasons. Why keep him around? I understand the little one, but if you needed another companion we could’ve just talked about it and I could’ve sent literally anyone of your liking.”

Such a question actually makes Natsume slowly stop his circles. Going into detail about his current honest feelings regarding this situation isn’t exactly something he planned on doing with someone other than Sora, and much less to someone who might completely lose his head over it. Shu notices this hesitation.

“...Well, Natsume?”

“ _Well_ …” Natsume starts, but leaves it there. Is he really supposed to say this out loud?

Shu waits, now of all times choosing to be patient, and Natsume gets up from the couch. He decides the best way to tell it is with imagery, and rummages around his jewelry to show Shu one particularly tacky, handmade bracelet. The lord blinks at it.

“What am I looking at, here?”

“...My favorite _accessory_ ,” Natsume says, his expression fixed into a frown, but his cheeks red. Shu raises his eyebrows.

“But that’s...horrible.” He says, unable to sugarcoat it. Natsume just nods along.

“I _know_. It does not match with anything, so whenever I wear it, I have to hide it under my sleeves or other _prettier_ bracelets.”

“Then why is it your favorite, what are you trying to tell me here? You have way better taste than this, I know it.”

A beat. Shu can swear Natsume gets redder with it, and the redhead can only mumble.

“... _He_ made it just for me.”

It takes Shu just a minute to get it, his jaw slowly dropping.

 

\--

 

Hours later, Tsumugi has run out of books to show Mika, but it isn’t a problem. It’s a struggle to find enough mugs for everyone in the hut- to the point that he has been forced to use a couple of fancier goblets, but as it turns out since his time as a servant to house Tenshouin, a cup of hot chocolate is still the perfect way to bond and make good conversation with brand new guests. Especially if they have a sweet tooth as big as Mika’s, perhaps even more than either Mademoiselle or Sora, who are huddled in front of the fireplace playing the card game Sora was winning that very same afternoon.

Mika sips into his mug, letting out a big and enthusiastic exhale when he swallows, blissfully ignorant of the sweet cream over his lips. Tsumugi laughs, handing over a clean cloth.

“Not scalding anymore, right?”

“Nope, it’s just perfect to drink,” He grins, reaching for the cloth but not really using it, “Thanks a bunch!”

Tsumugi nods, a small smile on his face. He gets up to fetch the goblets he prepared for Shu and Natsume as well, but the guardians come out of Natsume’s room just then. Thankfully, the serious eyes they step out with are their usual expressions and nothing like the tense, uncomfortable faces they wore all afternoon. Shu is the first to walk into the room after very pointedly refusing the goblet Tsumugi offered him, surprised at the cozy scene before him. Mika waves from the couch.  

“M’lord, welcome back!”

“Ah, thank you--What is going on here, Kagehira?” He walks up to his servant, who diligently gets up to be at eye level for the conversation. “I thought you’d be waiting with Aoba.”

“We were!” Mika assures, happily, “We were still waitin’ while lookin’ at books, but Sir Tsumugi-chan thought it would be nice to prepare hot drinks for everybody since the night is cold!”

Shu grimaces.

“Sir...what, now?”

“Oh, it’s ‘cuz we’re in a pretty similar situation, so it’s not like we have to be so formal around each other even if he’s older,” Mika explains, looking over Shu’s shoulder to wave at Tsumugi. “Right, Sir Tsumugi-chan?”

“Ah--” Tsumugi turns to him after handing Natsume his goblet, “Um, that’s right. I have no preferences to how I’m addressed!”

Shu rolls his eyes. Of course the assassin has everyone wrapped around his finger--in every way, too. He gives Natsume a quick glance before turning back to Mika.

“You should unpack our clothes if you haven’t by now. It’s way too late for both you and my Mademoiselle to still be up.”

“Yessir! In which room should I leave everything?”

“Good question,” He turns to the oracle now, “Natsume?”

“ _Oh_.” Natsume goes, unexpecting that he’d be called, and hums. Between the rather embarrassing talk he just had with Shu and the stress of a sudden full house after a whole season of just the usual residents, he had honestly forgotten to think of such a detail. He gets the idea on how to accommodate his guests after a few moments.

“Nii-san and his company could actually all be in my room, since it is the _biggest_.” He says, “Sora can stay in his own room that way, too, so I think it works _out._ ”

Mika nods, and while Shu initially does the same, he is very quick to stop himself, frowning once more.

“Wait, where does that leave you, then?”

The question is left in the air for just a bit. Natsume catches Sora staring before he can really answer it--and though he can’t see colors, he can tell the child is amused, if not outright giddy. As soon as he starts to place why that would be the case, a smiling Tsumugi sheepishly raises his hand.

“That would be in the library with me, I think.”

A room with a single bed, if Natsume recalls correctly.

...Well.


	12. Hints

“For the _last_ time,” Natsume says, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance, “I am _not_ letting you sleep on the floor.”

A bit after Natsume had prepared his room to properly accommodate to Shu and his companions, he’d taken his chance to get ready for bed and even retrieved clean clothes for the following day. Tsumugi had done the same while he was busy, his long hair loose by the time Natsume made it back to the librarian’s room. All was casual and comfortable for starters.

...And then their typical one-sided argument unraveled, right as Natsume decided it was time to clear the candlelights off. As soon as he’d gotten inside the covers, Tsumugi had made a big deal of preparing a pillow on the wooden surface of the room right next to the foot of the bed.

Which takes them to the current argument, with Tsumugi laughing up sheepishly, like it’s so silly to think he’s allowed to share a bed with Natsume.

“Well, I’m not letting you have an uncomfortable night, so I think we have a little problem here.”

“ _You_ are the one making it a problem.”

“Okay, then...a disagreement? Is that a better way to word it?”

Natsume just stares. Without breaking eye-contact, he pulls the bed’s blanket up.

“ _Get in here or so help me_.”

His sudden ominous tone is enough to get Tsumugi to yelp, though the librarian doesn’t exactly do as told-- he just hurriedly sits on the edge of the bed while muttering an alarmed string of apologies and agreements, which doesn’t make Natsume feel nearly as victorious as he should probably do with such a quick win.

Granted, It’s not the kind of reaction or course of actions Natsume would’ve wanted to get to this particular situation, but he figures he’ll have to make do with this. His relationship with Tsumugi _did_ have a very implicit (even if unspoken) kind of power dynamic, and breaking it usually took a lot of patience and long talks. He sighs when Tsumugi continues with the gibberish, showing him a hand to ask him to stop.

“ _Listen_ ,” Natsume says, trying hard to be gentler than usual, “I am your _guest_ tonight, yes. But even with that being the case, I have to do my best not to impose on your own comfort precisely because this is _your_ room, so...that’s why I don’t want you below me.”

Tsumugi takes a moment before he looks up with a nervous smile.

“I guess…” He chuckles, “It makes sense when you put it like that, yeah. It’s just still kind of weird to have a room to call my own, no matter how long I’ve been here by now.”

Natsume nods to that. He has no real need to ask Tsumugi about his past circumstances-- he saw a lot when the man first arrived to the hut, when he was trying to find out if he was a friend or foe. There had been a lot of poverty, accommodating to less than comfortable situations, skeevy and toxic masters to deal with… a season of peace is nothing next to a lifetime of hardship, and he is well aware of that.

Tsumugi seems to pick up on what he’s thinking about, and he clears his throat to catch Natsume’s attention.

“Anyway,” He starts, smiling sheepishly, “I take it your audience with Lord Itsuki went well?”

“I, ah-” Natsume stutters, completely thrown off by the question, “How-- _why_ do you assume as much?”

Tsumugi tilts his head.

“Well...you were tense all afternoon, and you came out a lot more relaxed, so…?”

“Oh. _Right_.” Natsume clears his throat now, extremely relieved that that was the only thing Tsumugi got from that. “It went _well_ , yes.”

“Mm. I know I shouldn’t pry, but I figure that whole thing was about me?” His laugh is dry, “Lady Itsuki and Kagehira-kun seem fairly isolated from conflicts besides those of their home, but given Lord Itsuki’s status and his constant trips to the capital there’s no way he wouldn’t know who I was…”

“Right… _that_ took most of the conversation.” Natsume says, half-lying. “Rest assured, though, that is over.”

“So Lord Itsuki accepts me?”

“Oh, he _despises_ you.” Natsume tells him, bluntly, “Not only for the political trouble you threw on him, but for _personal_ reasons as well. He might not say it out loud, but he’s fond of Leo Tsukinaga; so you might imagine he didn’t take kindly to his _disappearance_.”

“Ah…” Tsumugi seems to be shrinking the slightest, but he nods along. “That’s...actually really understandable.”

“...He accepts your being _here_ , however.” Natsume adds, already knowing that more affirmation of his mistakes would probably send Tsumugi on a spiral. He needs to tell it like it is, but he has no need to be cruel about it. Tsumugi smiles at that, a little hopefully.

“That’s fair....it’s more than I can ask, honestly.”

“Right. So the worst he can do during his stay is look ugly at you, but you can certainly deal with _that_.”

The librarian allows himself a laugh.

“Of course, because you do it all the time!”

Natsume’s immediate glare pulls a nervous little yelp out of Tsumugi, who can only point and squeal in reaction, “T-That look, exactly that one! It’s no wonder Lord Itsuki is the one who raised you, you have the same glare!”

“I will do more than glare, that is a _promise_. If you don’t hush right this _instant_ -” Natsume threatens, leaning forward to properly threaten the librarian--when he gets closer, however, he can see Tsumugi is half-laughing and half-squirming at the warning. The reaction is so natural and playful he can’t quite place it, feeling strangely pulled by it. Tsumugi stops when Natsume doesn’t finish his sentence, blinking curiously at the quiet, unmoving Oracle.

“Um…” He laughs nervously, “If I don’t hush this instant…?”

_I’ll kiss you quiet_ , is the first thing Natsume thinks, much to his own surprise.

He has an intrusive thought right then, a little impulse to just lean in more to cut the distance between them. Then, he remembers how that went last time he tried, back in Rei’s castle-- unwelcome, uncertain and uncomfortable--, and that’s enough to pull him right back where he was sitting, looking down at his lap to avoid Tsumugi’s eyes. Just as he would’ve guessed, Tsumugi sounds a little concerned at his sudden backing away.

“Natsume-kun, is something wrong?”

“ _Nothing_.” Natsume quickly replies, trying his best to ignore that it’s his name and not his title that is being called, just as he likes it. Natsume crawls all at once under the bed’s blankets, curling into a little ball. “I think I’ll try to get some rest now.”

“Oh,” Tsumugi nods right away, unquestioning. “You’re right, it’s pretty late by now.”

“And there is a _lot_ to do tomorrow, so…”

The librarian nods again, with a little laugh. “I understand. I won’t stay up reading or studying, don’t worry.”

“And no sleeping on the _floor_ either.”

That one takes a small beat for Tsumugi to reply to.

“...Understood.”

“I mean it, I _will_ curse you if I find you there in the morning.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll just...” With that, Natsume hears a little rustling. It’s tempting to turn around to confirm what’s going on, but he can feel it pretty clearly from the slight dips in the mattress--Tsumugi is getting under the blankets now as well, and the bed is small enough to let him know that what is touching his back quickly enough is Tsumugi’s. Natsume unconsciously curls up a little, suddenly taking notice of how tall and wide Tsumugi is compared to himself. As soon as he settles in, Tsumugi speaks up again, much quieter.  

“See? I’m right here, just like you wanted.”

“...Okay,” Natsume breathes out, his eyes wide open as he stares at the book shelf directly in front of him. “Alright. That is _acceptable_.”

“Sorry I have to be this close, maybe I can go to the living room instead--”

“ _No_ \--” He clears his throat, “I mean--you already settled. You might as well stay _here_.”

“You’re not uncomfortable?”

Natsume scoffs.

“What, you think I haven’t shared a bed with a man before?”

A beat.

Natsume frowns at the lack of a reply, squinting at the shelf.

“...You seriously think I haven’t.”

“Well….!” Tsumugi goes, his voice high pitched with nerves, “I mean-- _have_ you?”

Another beat, as Natsume belatedly realizes he cornered himself into this.

Now Tsumugi is the one to break the silence, first with a little gasp of disbelief.

“Oh,” He starts, surprised, “No way, I was right--?”

“Not by _choice_ , alright?” Natsume retorts, embarrassed, “You already know I have been the Oracle for as long as I can remember, and my niisan always made sure _everyone_ around me knew that. And when they didn’t, it was because I was hidden from existence over _here_.”

“I see...I’m guessing nobody wanted to deal with any of the lords in case they wronged you?”

“...Right.”

“And it’s not like there’s a lot of people around here…” He hums. “How old was Sora-kun when you first got here, did the lords appoint you to take care of him so you wouldn’t be lonely?”

“No--has he never told you how he got here?”

“No, I haven’t asked...all in all, I kind of figured the lords picked him to be your helper?”

Huh. It’s been so long Natsume figured Sora would’ve already told Tsumugi this particular story, but once he really thinks about it, it makes sense that he wouldn’t want to dwell on his past. Natsume hums now, shifting to get a little more comfortable, but still refusing to turn around. He can guess Tsumugi is still giving him his back, anyways.

“My niisan met Sora until he was already living here...I decided to take him in on my own.”

“How old was he when you did that?”

“Around six, I think.”

Natsume can practically see Tsumugi’s usual confused blinking.

“That’s--” He starts, his whispers incredulous, “way younger than I imagined….what made you do that?”

“It just... kind of happened,” Natsume says, with a shrug, by now not even noticing he'd dropped the tone of his voice, “Sora always had a natural talent for anything magical. If he was in the beach at the same time I decided to go out for air, he’d stare directly at me-- even with the barrier between us”

“Was that often?”

“He lived in this beach at the time, so yes.” He pauses for a moment. “He never mentioned any of this, right?”

“Not really, no…”

Must’ve been for a reason. Natsume kind of figures out why, and it feels a bit like if he keeps talking, he’s exposing the boy without his knowing… even if Tsumugi seems to ask from a place of caring, it’s not his say to keep going. If the librarian’s been so good at understanding things lately, this could be one of them. Natsume hums. When he’s about to disclose on why he can’t go on, though, Tsumugi is actually the one to speak up.

“...I think I’d rather not know, though.”

Natsume’s eyebrows go up.

“Oh?”

Tsumugi chuckles lightly.

“Yeah, it feels...kind of intrusive. To have this conversation without Sora-kun, I mean.”

“You don’t mind not knowing the full story, then?”

“No...at the end of the day, he’s here, and that’s what matters. If I am ever to know, I’ll let him be the one to tell me.”

Such a sentiment is actually rather touching. Natsume glances in Tsumugi’s general direction, and breathes out lightly.

“Alright...thank you, then.”

“Mm? What for?”

“For understanding. I realize how little you actually know of us.”

“Well, I mean--” Tsumugi sounds like he’s going to start putting himself down as he usually does,

But he stops himself and sighs lightly. “I mean...you’re very welcome.”

That’s...actually a victory worth celebrating.

Natsume smiles the slightest bit to himself, and for the first time ever, the conversation doesn’t end with a door slam, an insult or a misunderstanding; it’s all quietness and one final, polite good night before they’re both off to their own heads, effortlessly and dreamlessly sleeping through the night.

\--

The next morning, Tsumugi wakes up alone.

The first thing he notices when he’s sort of awake is that the weight of Natsume’s back against his own is gone, and though his bed is finally as spacious as he’s used to, he can’t help but feel the slightest bit disappointed there wasn’t a chance to greet awkward good mornings at each other.

He allows himself a moment of laziness, turning to lay on his back while half-staring at the low ceiling. It’s hard to tell the time with the changing weather, but the little creaks and muffled noises he hears upstairs tell him there’s already a little activity in the house--maybe where Natsume had gone. After a few minutes of fighting off the urge to go back to sleep, Tsumugi gets dressed and out of the room.

By the time he makes it to the kitchen, he’s hit full force by a sweet smell that he could faintly make out even in the basement’s corridor. He takes it in for a bit, and turns to flinch when he finds the reason behind it.

“L-lord Itsuki,” He stammers, quick to bow. “You’re cooking?”

Shu gives him a little glare, obviously displeased to be greeted by him of all people. Though he has a slight bed-head and his current clothes are far more comfortable and simpler than those of the previous day, he remains as poised and imposing.

“What does it look like?” The lord asks, not even attempting to sound friendly.

“Ah...right, of course it’s obvious, my apologies.” Tsumugi stays in place, stiff as a rock, “I just thought maybe Kagehira-kun was the one to do this kind of chore…?”

“He usually is,” Shu sharply explains, turning to focus on the food, “but this trip is supposed to serve as a vacation, both for him and my Mademoiselle. It’s only natural neither has to wake up to work.”  

Tsumugi blinks, surprised. “That’s... very considerate of you, my lord.”

“I can do without your compliments, thank you.” Shu retorts, quick and venomous. Tsumugi can only laugh dryly at this, painfully understanding of such a cold attitude.

“Do you need help with anything?” The librarian asks, trying and failing hard not to sound too intimidated. Shu scoffs.

“No, Natsume already took it upon himself to assist me.”

“He did?” Tsumugi perks up at the name, “So that’s why he wasn’t in bed...”

The lord’s eye visibly twitches at his word-choice, and Tsumugi would’ve probably missed it if he wasn’t paying attention. Shu clears his throat, holding back on his words and very obvious distaste for the night’s sleeping arrangements.

“Right,” He goes, flatly, “He was kind enough to go fetch some clean water and herbs for tea, in case you were looking for him.”

“I see...maybe I should go help him, too.”

With that, Tsumugi actually starts making way to move past Shu, but surprisingly enough, the lord stops him on his tracks with a hand to his chest, pushing him back so suddenly Tsumugi can’t help but gasp lightly. Shu gives him a look.

“Hold it.” He commands, “If he wanted your help, he would’ve asked for it.”

“But I-”

“Listen,” Shu interrupts, turning to look at him and still keeping him in place with nothing but his hand, “Natsume is your master. So you just do as your master tells you-- After all, we are both _very_ well aware of how things go when you make your own decisions.”

Tsumugi’s blood runs cold. 

“I--”

Shu narrows his eyes.

“What.”

Despite being given a chance to say something for himself, Tsumugi can’t bring himself to. He simply sighs and shakes his head.

“No, nothing…”

The lord lets go of him, turning his dismissive eyes back to the sweet treats he was decorating.

“That’s what I thought.”

“What did you think about _what_ , niisan?”

A third voice cuts into the conversation right then, making both men turn towards it- it’s Natsume’s voice, of course. The redhead is currently holding a few roots and leaves, and he approaches them with a hurried step, as if demanding to be led into their talk with his eyes alone. Tsumugi looks away, sheepish but taking it upon himself to answer first.

“Lord Itsuki was just giving a reminder, is all…”

An unconvinced Natsume narrows his eyes.

“I didn’t ask _you_ ,” He tells him, and then turns to Shu. “I asked _you_ , niisan.”

“He’s telling the truth.” Shu assures. “I was simply making sure he wasn’t straying from his role.”

That doesn’t make Natsume’s expression any more reassured, though. In fact, he seems even more displeased, placing the plants and water into a pot by the fire before stepping towards Shu.

“Well, I _appreciate_ your concern, niisan.” He tells Shu when he approaches him, firm. “However, as we discussed yesterday in length, I’d rather you leave that kind of thing to _me_.”

Shu rolls his eyes, uninterested in further conflict. “Fine, fine. You’ve left it perfectly clear, this is your home.”

“And as such, _I_ do the scolding.” Natsume allows himself a satisfied smirk before he looks at Tsumugi, quickly changing back to his sharp and narrowed eyes. “Hey, _you_.”

“Y-Yes?” Tsumugi yelps, expecting said scold. Natsume, however, just motions towards the other rooms of the house.

“Go wake everyone else up, we’re all having breakfast _together_.”

“Y-Yes, understood!” Tsumugi exclaims without question, glad to have a reason to walk out of the kitchen. When he finally walks past Shu, he’s nervously averting his eyes, though he can feel the lord’s glare penetrating the back of his head.

When he leaves, Natsume sighs at Shu.

“You’re acting like a jealous parent, _niisan._  I already feel bad for your poor daughter’s suitors.”

Shu’s twitching eye returns at this.

“First of all, there are _no_ suitors for such a young maiden.” He goes, as if that were to be the case forever, “Second, I have no idea where you’d even draw such a comparison.”  

“Nevermind that...I thought we had settled this _yesterday_.” Natsume looks up, almost pouty. “I understand your distaste, but the least you could do is act _politely_.”

“The least I could do would be punching him for all the grief he’s caused me personally instead of just taking him back to the capital.”

“Well, _don’t_.”

“Can you blame me for thinking so? He just has a face that begs to be punched. And I have plenty motives to do so.”

Natsume places a hand on Shu’s arm.

“Easy, niisan. You’re only here for another _night_.”

“Same to you, easy there.” The lord squints at him. “Especially with those sleeping arrangements you decided upon. Don’t think I didn’t notice that.”

Natsume’s cheeks turn red at the sudden shift of the conversation.

“That wasn’t intentional, mind you--”

“But if you really minded you could’ve just shared the room with the little one, right?” Shu continues, “Like back when I’d visit with just Kagehira and the room downstairs was a dusty library.”

When Natsume doesn’t really answer, Shu gives him a little sigh.

“Look, I don’t mean to judge or put you on the spot but just...let me have this. It’s hard enough to understand his staying here, so to add these feelings of yours…”

“ _I know, I know.”_ Natsume interrupts, embarrassed to hear that out loud, “I’m not pleased by this either, so you have to help me out as well by behaving. Only you and Sora know of this, and I’d like it to stay that way… please?”

For a moment, he just stares up, pleading. Natsume knows for a fact that even though he’s the most strict of his elders, Shu is the one brother he can ask anything of. And true enough, the lord groans lightly before making a face Natsume is familiar with--that one expression where he is, once again, losing to Natsume’s wishes.

“Fine, alright. Don’t expect me to be nice or anything, but I won’t be _so_ cross--just for you, Natsume.”

It is during these moments that Natsume feels a little like Sora whenever the two of them have a discussion--except, unlike Sora, he completely and utterly _loves_ knowing he’ll always get his way when it comes to Shu.

So Natsume just smirks, and leans on Shu’s shoulder shortly, as thanks. He stops when sleepy, bed-headed guests start walking into the kitchen.

\--

The rest of the day was actually pleasant enough.

After a good breakfast, Sora had suggested taking the guests out for a day at the beach, and though Shu was apprehensive at first of being anywhere near the water, Mika and Mademoiselle were enthusiastic enough to get him to allow it. Fortunately for him, though, they didn’t really even got all that near to the cold water save for soaking their bare feet; most of the time was spent with sand castles and collecting seashells under the sun. Shu didn’t partake in most of it, but he seemed pleased enough to see his companions enjoy themselves.

Tsumugi was in a similar position all day, quietly enjoying the beach--but at the back of his mind, Shu’s words still ate away at him:

_Do as your master tells you-- After all, we are both very well aware of how things go when you make your own decisions._

It was true. Too true. But at the same time, Natsume’s words from a while back clashed in with the lord’s; about how he was not going to be his new Eichi, and how Tsumugi was supposed to be in charge of his own choices.

So...which one was it, at the end?

Despite being so out of it, Tsumugi felt observed all day. Shu was not subtle about his stare, but he was thankfully going for the silent treatment when it came to him. Natsume, on the other hand, was easier to miss, but Tsumugi could’ve sworn he caught him staring too, almost as if he was also concerned by the little morning incident.

Natsume doesn’t bring anything up until it’s time to sleep once more, in the same arrangements as the previous night.

“So. What did niisan tell you, _exactly_?”

Tsumugi laughs quietly--they’re in the same exact way as the last night, curled up with their backs touching and eyes not meeting. For a moment, he almost thought he would get by the whole day without talking about this, but Natsume had been smart enough to choose this moment to ask about it, when he knows for a fact Tsumugi can’t ignore him or pretend to do something else.

“I told you in the morning...just a reminder.”

“I want to know the _exact_ words he used.” Natsume demands, quiet but firm, “So I can finally get to the bottom of this.”

“The bottom of what?”

“Your _dreadful_ attitude from all day. You’re acting like a kicked dog, and I want to know why.”

Tsumugi would’ve laughed at the comparison, but it feels too accurate for that. Instead, he sighs.

“Well...I apologize, first of all. I didn’t mean to trouble you.”

“You didn’t. So just tell me _already_.”

Tsumugi quiets down. It feels redundant to go over this again, and he feels Natsume would think so too...but it’s not like he can lie. He reluctantly goes over his words before speaking up, quiet.

“Lord Itsuki just thinks I should do as told if I am to be here.” He starts, “And to be honest, I see where he comes from. I kind of agree, actually.”

“I don’t.”

The quick and calm reply makes Tsumugi’s eyes widen.

“But-” He goes, also all too quickly, “You’ve seen what happens. Years ago, a few months ago... You should know better than anyone, right? Since you’re all-seeing?”

“Yes, and I still _disagree_.”

“But..” He repeats, starting to feel bewildered. “Wouldn’t things be so much easier if I just listened to you without question? Wouldn’t I be so much more useful--”

“ _No_.”

Natsume’s rapid-fire and confident answers only confuse Tsumugi further. He can feel himself curling up involuntarily, holding on to his pillow so tightly he doesn’t even notice he’s slightly trembling.

“That makes no sense-” He says, mostly to himself, “That really, really makes no sense at all, after all I’ve done and all I’ll probably do and say wrong, I--”

“Tsumugi.”

There is no haunting or spells in his tone, but Tsumugi’s name alone is enough to get him to calm down. He looks over his shoulder, thinking he’ll only be looking at Natsume’s back, but he’s surprised to find that at some point, Natsume had turned around. His eyes are sharp as usual, but this time around, his expression, though fixed in a small frown, is one of concern.

The sight alone is enough to compel Tsumugi to quietly turn around, now facing Natsume with the tiniest feeling of expectation. Were he to cut distance between them, their noses would be touching--and such a realization makes him conscious of his breathing, and how he’d rather hold it as much as possible to not bother Natsume.

Natsume manages to keep Tsumugi in place with nothing but his eyes for a few moments, and he speaks up so softly Tsumugi almost thinks he’s imagining it:

“No matter what you say, I am not turning you into my servant or my puppet.”

That much is clear. Another _‘but_ ’ is stuck in Tsumugi’s throat, but he holds it back. Instead, he asks a single question.

“...Why?”

Natsume opens his mouth to answer, but says nothing. He actually does nothing for a little bit, as if debating with himself how to properly explain.

“Because... I know what it’s like to live bound by others. And I know I’d be unhappy if I couldn’t at least be myself in it all.”

Tsumugi tilts his head just the slightest.

“Be...yourself?”

Natsume nods.

“What I mean is… no matter how troublesome, complicated or infuriating you may get, I don’t have any interest in asking you to be anything but yourself.”

Tsumugi can almost feel his heart stop at that. His next words come out almost automatically, like a warning.

“There’s...no value in myself. No--even less than that. You know that.”

No matter how grim the quiet reminder is and how it’s the one thing Tsumugi has lived by for as long as he can remember, Natsume just easily nods again.

“Even if that were true, I stand by my words,” He tells Tsumugi, confident. “I don’t want a right-hand man, a servant, an assassin or anything else...just this house’s librarian, who happens to live here as well.”

“Not even a replacement?”

Natsume frowns.

“No-” He looks like he’ll ask where that suggestion came from, but he decides against it, “No, nothing like that. Just what I said. Just you.”

The words linger. In a moment, all of Tsumugi’s perspectives are challenged, met and questioned so easily he doesn’t quite know what to do or say about it.

On one hand, he’s a confused mess. None of what Natsume has assured makes sense at all, nothing feels prompted or deserved, but on the other, a tiny part of him feels...relieved. As if he wanted or needed to hear this, but had no idea about it.

So he says nothing, and neither does Natsume.

It would've been a comfortable moment if not for the sudden tension and self-consciousness Tsumugi feels- as if he had something more to say or do, or as if Natsume did, but nobody moved.

The one to finally break the silence ends up being Natsume, with a small sigh.

“So now that you know that...try to rest.”

“I...um.” Tsumugi nods, sheepish, “Okay…”

He thinks Natsume will move first, but he stays in place, oddly thoughtful. Tsumugi just takes it as cue to give Natsume his back, and curls up as he was a while ago.

“I’ll...go to sleep.” He says, awkwardly. “So...good night?”

In a way, he feels bad about this. Like he should thank Natsume, but he doesn’t know what for--and Natsume seems equally awkward, anyways, remaining quiet and short on words now that he had said so much.

“...Alright. Good night.”

-

Not only is Tsumugi unable to sleep for a while, but he also takes vague notice of the fact that Natsume never really turned around to his side of the bed- or at least, he doesn’t really feel it.

A while later, Tsumugi thinks he’s dreaming when he feels a little weight against his back, and ignores it.

Then, when he wakes up for real, a glance over his shoulder lets him know he was right about the weight; Natsume has his forehead pressed against his back, so deeply asleep he’s even snoring lightly against Tsumugi.

It takes all of Tsumugi’s willpower to pretend he’s still asleep for another hour or so, until Natsume gets up, gets dressed and leaves the room in complete and hurried silence.

And Tsumugi is just left there, wondering if he had done the same the previous night.

 


	13. Dreamscape

“Your move.”

Tsumugi looks side to side to gather his surroundings. There’s nothing strange about them; in fact, they’re quite welcoming, as he’s sitting in the hut’s living room, a cozy fire lit in the hearth and an antique clock quietly ticking away in the background.

As he wonders why he feels so out of place somewhere so familiar and comfortable, the owner of the voice he just heard sighs, exasperated, and clears their throat. Tsumugi yelps and looks forward to meet the person sitting across him; none other than Lord Shu Itsuki, glaring impatiently at him.

“I said,” He repeats, severe, “it’s your turn, Aoba.”

Tsumugi is about to open his mouth to ask what he means, but a simple look down answers him; a wooden chess board sits in the small table between them, and it seems to have been there for a while. He blinks down at the game to find that Shu, using the white pieces, has already moved a pawn forward. He stares between the lord and the board for a moment before wordlessly moving a pawn of his own, unquestioning of the strange and sudden situation.

Tsumugi expects to wait for the lord’s next move for a few minutes, but the second he sets the piece down, Shu automatically moves another of his pawns, startling him with the suddenness and firmness of his move. He yelps a little, unable to keep his surprise to himself.

“My lord, don’t you need more time to-”

“Your move, Aoba.”

Shu’s voice is so grave Tsumugi can’t help but flinch at it, now the slightest bit scared by the strange game that looks like will develop before him. He blinks down at the table before meekly moving another pawn forward. Surely enough, Shu moves with the same robotic and thoughtless pace of his last play; it’s a knight piece this time around, quickly making way for Tsumugi’s side of the board.

And again, Tsumugi just moves another pawn, playing it safe and this time trying to match Shu’s startling speed.

It is only after a few turns that Shu has any reaction to this decision, seeming very displeased with Tsumugi’s playing style imitating his. He looks at him with a glare that seems somehow stronger than usual.

“...Are you mocking me?”

Tsumugi’s eyebrows go up.

“What?”

“Don’t answer my question with another.” The lord says, “Is this really the best that you can do?”

Not at all.

Tsumugi is, in fact, quite good at chess. After an entire adolescence with Eichi Tenshouin, one of the brightest minds of his time, it was impossible not to have picked up on at least a little strategy.

Instead of saying so, though, Tsumugi looks to the side, ashamed to be caught so easily, but not quite ready to admit it.

“I’m just...playing along, my lord.”

Shu gives Tsumugi a hard stare, as if looking right through him. In his next move, one of the lord’s bishops effortlessly captures Tsumugi’s queen. At the moment it doesn’t feel too important, as Tsumugi has no real understanding of the motives of their game or an interest in winning; and while losing such a crucial piece doesn’t seem to bother the librarian too much, the same can’t be said for the next voice he hears after the play, right behind him:

“I have to agree, Tsumugi...you’re not really playing, are you?” The voice asks, clear and certain. “I’d be upset too if I were in Itsuki-kun’s place, you know.”

Eyes wide with sudden recognition, Tsumugi quickly turns and looks up from his seat to find none other than Eichi Tenshouin and his playful smile, carelessly leaning on his chair. The scion somehow holds the piece Tsumugi has just lost and turns it in his hand, examining it with curious eyes. Tsumugi just stares, dumbfounded at Eichi’s casual presence.

“Eichi-kun--”

Eichi smiles sweetly in reply, but doesn’t really acknowledge Tsumugi’s surprise, continuing his accusation.

“If you were really serious about this, you wouldn’t have left your queen unattended. And now she’s gone, just like that.”

“It’s not that I wanted to lose her-” Tsumugi starts, suddenly feeling guilty about the piece; trying too hard to ignore the undeniable butterflies in his stomach and how the world has seemingly freezed at his one and only lord’s presence, “I just...wasn’t looking that way. I was trying not to upset lord Itsuki further--”

Eichi hums thoughtfully, placing the black queen back in the table but outside the chess board. He takes his sweet time circling the room to see the game from Shu’s perspective, strangely unnoticed by the glaring lord, who has gone totally quiet and unmoving.

“Well...you can still save the game, regardless of that poor performance.” Eichi tells Tsumugi, calmly leaning over Shu’s shoulder, “I see no real strategy over here, he’s just being reckless.”

“I know.” Tsumugi replies, quietly, “He’s trying to look like he knows what he’s doing.”

“But he doesn’t,” Eichi continues, and points to an empty space in the board, “so with that in mind, you can move on confidently. If you start by getting your own bishop over here, you can still win.”

“I don’t _want_ to win,” Tsumugi insists, closing his eyes tight, “I know I can, but... he’ll be angrier if I do.”

Eichi simply shrugs.

“He’ll be angry either way because of how much he hates you, won’t he? You might as well not insult him by playing seriously.”

That makes Tsumugi think. It’s definitely the longest he’s taken to move with all the back and forth with Eichi, and Shu seems to notice only now that they’ve stopped discussing, clearing his throat impatiently to urge him to move. The librarian gulps before placing the bishop where Eichi wanted him to. Shu smiles at the seemingly random move, overconfident.

“I suppose this _is_ your best. Such a shame.”

Shu makes his move to capture the lone bishop, and now Eichi is the one to smile.

“Your rook, Tsumugi. He’s wide open now.”

Tsumugi takes a breath before he shakily moves forward said piece--cornering none other than Shu’s unguarded king. Shu’s satisfied expression slowly turns into one of disbelief, and Tsumugi has to use too much willpower not to mumble or stammer when he calls the current move;

“Check.”

For the first time since the game started, Shu doesn’t move right away. Instead, he covers his mouth, violet eyes quickly scanning the board for ways to save the situation. By this time, Eichi has already made his way over to Tsumugi’s side, placing his hand on the librarian’s shoulder, as if already congratulating him for his win. Tsumugi can’t help but briefly smile up at him, feeling praised and useful.

The moment is cut short, however, when he hears the soft thud of Shu’s next move:

A single knight stands in front of the king, his only resort to protect the piece from the looming rook.

Tsumugi feels the butterflies in his stomach turn into knots right then; and Eichi looks down, smiling pleasantly.

“What’s wrong, Tsumugi? You’re very close to a win.”

“I…” He looks between Eichi and the game, his blood cold. “The rook will take the knight, not the king.”

“Yes, obviously, and the king has to take the rook to protect himself.” Eichi explains, “But rest assured, the other rook is ready to corner the king--as is the other bishop and the knights. You’ve got this.”

But for some reason, it doesn’t feel like it. Tsumugi stares back at the game, feeling an all too familiar pain make his head heavy and cold.

“...Eichi-kun?”

“Yes?”

“Is…” He gulps and looks up, almost pleading. “Is...this _my_ game?”

Eichi’s laugh is light and casual--almost dismissive.

“Of course not. Did you just notice?”

Tsumugi’s chest aches with dread. The knots in his stomach are everywhere now--his throat, his ears, his hands--everything just burns. He dares to look back at the other side of the table for Shu’s expression and to check if he’s aware of what happens around them, but what he finds is different:

In place of the lord, a blurry-faced and red-headed knight sits on the other side of the board, a bloody and gruesome hole in his chest and his expression in vacant, obvious pain. What little can be seen of his skin and face is a mix of sickly pale and purple, clearly the result of poisoning. Tsumugi gets up so quickly he nearly throws his chair down, startled beyond words at the sudden sight. An unimpressed Eichi simply crosses his arms and tilts his head, humming at the change in opponent.

“Oh... that’s my little knight’s knight, isn’t he?”

Tsumugi shakily nods, unblinking and terrified.

“H-How is he here-?”

“Well...I’d imagine Leo is the one meant to be sitting there, since this is _his_ game. So I guess it’s because the knight, like you, thought this was his game as well when you failed me with that stab?” Eichi asks--and then narrows his eyes, not losing a beat to answer himself; “Oh, wait... I didn’t even ask you to do that. So you failed _yourself_ , right?”

“I already know that!” Tsumugi shouts at him, feeling the corners of his eyes wet with hot and desperate tears. “I already tell myself that every single day! But that doesn’t explain what’s happening right now nor answers my question!”

“Does that even matter?” Eichi asks again, creepily calm. “It’s not like your life has ever made much sense, has it?”

“I know that too, but--why now? I didn’t even move the piece--”

“You didn’t need to.” Eichi reaffirms, and points at the board. “Look at the game.”

An alarmed Tsumugi does as much, horrified to find that, as usual, Eichi is right; not only has the move been made--it’s been resolved now, as the rook is the only piece in front of the white king, ready to be taken.  And now that the protecting white knight is out of the board, so is the real, sickly read-headed knight who sat in front of him and Eichi; in his place the familiar Leo Tsukinaga, his hands clutching the armrests of his chair--now a throne-- so tightly his knuckles are white, frozen like Shu was, and his expression one of silent rage-- like a lion waiting to pounce at prey.

Tsumugi gulps, knowing that _he_ is that prey.

“See?” Eichi asks him, squeezing his shoulder. “You played your part. It’ll all be over soon.”

Just like that?

Trembling, Tsumugi looks everywhere- at Eichi, Leo, the board, himself-- and it all feels wrong and unfair and too simple yet too much.

At the same time, though, it comes together alarmingly easily.

The librarian allows himself a small nod and a shaky sigh before turning fully to Eichi.

“I get it now...so this is what you wanted all along?” Tsumugi asks him, remaining tears rolling down his cheeks. “Eichi-kun--was I just a piece to be tossed aside? Was that really my purpose all along?”

Eichi is silent for a moment, his lovely blue eyes taking Tsumugi in with sadness. He sighs as well, but quieter.

“...Not really, no.” He says, the most truthful Tsumugi has heard him so far. “I intended to keep you in the board for as long as I could, but...you started moving on your own.”

Tsumugi’s hands have rolled into fists by now, shaking slightly at his sides. He forces himself to nod again.

“Yeah. I messed up your game...so you had to take over to make it work, is that right?”

Eichi doesn’t answer, but it’s not like he needs to.

Tsumugi just bows his head, taking that as a cue to answer himself.

“It’s okay. I understand,” He says, quietly and tearfully, “it’s my turn to get out of the board.”

Eichi closes his eyes to nod as well, seeming glad he didn’t have to say that himself.

“Alright... Thank you for playing, Tsumugi.”

He marks his gratitude by slowly looming over Tsumugi to plant a small kiss on his forehead--prickling Tsumugi’s heart like a single needle.

And somehow, Tsumugi feels that that alone has made all the horror worth it. Final tears roll out with just that gentle little action, his eyes closed and his voice quiet.  

“...It was my pleasure, my lord.”

He opens his eyes and turns back to face Leo, ready to be wiped out, but there’s nobody in the throne anymore.

He turns to tell Eichi as much, but there’s nobody behind him.

Then there’s nothing around him.

And that’s when he knows he’s already been taken out of the game and into the dark.

 

\--

 

“ _\--Sir_?”

Tsumugi groans softly, barely conscious.

“Sir...”

The clearer, louder ring of a familiar name catches his attention, and when he finally feels enough will to open his eyes, he catches one blurry but obviously concerned Sora sitting at his bedside. The sight alone of the worried boy is enough to make him sit up.

“Sora-kun--” He goes, so groggy he actually needs to clear his throat to keep talking. “I--what are you doing down here?”

“Sora was worried…” The boy tells him, smiling sadly, “Sir was so deeply asleep and quiet down here Sora was starting to think the fishermen somehow got into the house or something, so Sora had to come see the room for himself.”

Tsumugi chuckles quietly.

“No, don’t worry. I just...” He hums, unsure for a moment if he’d already woken up for real. Because what he just saw--there was no way that was anything but a dream, no matter how tired and unsettled it made him feel.

“Sir just…?” Sora prompts, snapping him out of his distraction. Tsumugi smiles nervously.

“I just...got up too early and went back to bed.”

It’s kind of true. The reason escapes him from a moment, but when he recalls Natsume’s closeness from last night, he can tell for sure--he must’ve been so shocked from the moment he felt it that he ended up losing sleep over it, and recovered it only when the Oracle got up in the morning. Sora just tilts his head at him, clearly unconvinced with such a vague answer. He still humors him, though, nodding along.

 “Well...It must’ve been pretty darn early, ‘cuz it’s almost afternoon right now.”

“Wha--” Tsumugi’s eyes widen, “Oh, then our guests must be up as well, should I--”

He makes an effort to get up, but Sora gets up to hold him back gently.

“It’s okay, Sir...” The boy tells him, “their ship sailed a few hours ago, they’re on their way to the mountains right now.”

Tsumugi blinks at him incredulously.

“Oh--really?”

“Yup… we were talking about that during dinner, remember? That they’d be leaving early?”

“No, I…” Tsumugi sighs and lays back down, feeling utterly useless and guilty. “I was...really out of it all of yesterday--even right now. I’m so sorry I didn’t help you see them off.”

Sora’s smile is gentle.

“It’s okay, Sora and Master talked about how Master seemed tired and kinda sad... Master did say you’d probably need rest and that Lord Itsuki would be a lot more pleasant without you around, so we thought we’d let you sleep in. Everyone else sends their love, though.”

A little chuckle escapes Tsumugi at the thought he gets picturing their departure- Mika waving excitedly as he carries his master and mistresses’ belongings behind his back, little Mademoiselle blowing kisses while flashing her refreshing smile, and a grumpy Shu walking behind them both after secretly having hugged Natsume tight earlier in the day. Even after only a couple nights knowing them, the trio had been far too unique to forget anytime soon.

“Well...I can only hope their stay was good.” Tsumugi tells Sora, who nods along.

“Yeah, it really was! And actually--Lady Mado-chan was telling Sora she wanted to keep in touch now that we have one of Lord Hibiki’s doves, so Sora was wondering…”

“Oh.” Tsumugi goes, often forgetting the bird is actually his. “Of course you can use it. I still have nobody to write for anyways, so you might as well.”

Sora’s smile is bright.

“Thank you, Sir!”  

“It’s nothing.” He groans a little. “I guess I should join you upstairs now, right?”

“Well...only if Sir feels like it,” Sora tells him, his smile smaller. “Sora can see Sir has a lot in mind right now, and Master thought so as well ever since yesterday...so if Sir feels like laying down for another while, it’s okay. We both understand.”

Hearing that from Sora is no surprise, but from Natsume--it’s starting to become noticeably often.

Tsumugi lets that sink in, and the conversation he shared with Natsume last night comes into mind as well--and the one with Sora, from before Shu and his company got to the hut. Facts are starting to become harder to ignore, even if they’re still as difficult to really understand, and Tsumugi sighs lightly at this realization.

“Say, Sora-kun… how long has this been going on?”

The boy tilts his head.

“How long has _what_  been going on…?”

“Um…” Tsumugi feels his cheeks heat up at even the thought of what he wants to suggest. “You know how you told me Natsume-kun seemed...nicer? And that you said it was because of me?”

Sora’s eyes widen.

“Sir actually noticed?”

“I mean--” Tsumugi goes, nervous and red-faced, “I guess--? I can put two and two together when I really think about it and see that he _has_ changed around me, but I don’t get _why_ at all--”

Sora’s surprise is fixed into disbelief.

“Well, uh…” He hums, unsure how to help. “There’s... not much to get if Sir already got that far, honestly…”

“Really? I’m not sure how I feel about this whole thing--and to know that I need to...well, understand it, right?”

Nodding along, Sora seems to struggle with how to keep answering--on one hand, he could just tell Tsumugi all he knows to help him handle this situation, but on the other, Tsumugi understands more than ever how loyal Natsume and Sora are to each other and their secrets. So he’s not surprised when the boy groans to himself, frustrated.

“Sora’s sorry, Sir, but Sora has to leave the rest up to you….”

“No, it’s okay.” Tsumugi assures, smiling a little. “Sorry I put you in the spot… I’ll think about this myself. Thank you for telling me anything at all.”

“Haha--it’s okay. Sora knows Master has trouble with words, and that Sir says too much... Sora just does what he can!”

That earns him a hair ruffle from Tsumugi, and they both share a little laugh over it--Sora is, as usual, the only person in the hut with enough maturity and headspace to be emotional and smart at once, and it will never stop being surprising and a little embarrassing for Tsumugi.

Once that light and happy moment passes and Sora is ready to return upstairs to Natsume, Tsumugi is left alone in bed with his thoughts.

Thoughts of his previous dream and of Natsume, specifically.

 

\--

Unsurprisingly, Tsumugi falls asleep again.

And at this point, also unsurprisingly, he dreams again--he feels it.

The scene starts ordinarily enough, with him sitting up right on his bed. The darkness of his room tells him it’s night time by now, and the basement is outlined in nothing but his best guesses of where the books and furniture are; his vision is even more unhelpful with the fact that his glasses are by his bedside, currently too far for his liking. He’s about to lay back down, but a voice stops him:

“If you go back to sleep again after being gone all day, I swear I’ll make sure you don’t _ever_ wake up again.”

Though it’s definitely worded like a threat, Tsumugi just blinks sleepily at it, used to that harshness from that particular voice.

“...Natsume-kun.”

The redhead scoffs softly at the sound of his name, obviously not feeling up to reprimanding him for his casualness. Tsumugi actually chuckles softly at that, impressed at the accuracy of the fabrications of his tired mind.

“I was starting to wonder when you’d show up.”

Natsume tilts his head at him.

“What do you _mean_?”

“Well… I already saw Lord Itsuki, Tsukinaga-kun, the knight, Sora-kun and even Eichi-kun—I guess it was only natural I’d see you to wrap up my day.”

Though Tsumugi can’t see Natsume’s expression, he can guess his silence is one of bewilderment at his awareness.

“That sounds… like a _busy_ day.” He says, intrigued. “What did they all have to _say_?”

“Oh, you know...” Tsumugi goes, “Lord Itsuki and Tsukinaga-kun despised me, Eichi-kun haunted me and Sora-kun was a darling. The usual.”

“...You seem _unnervingly_ used to that.”

“Because I am…” Tsumugi chuckles again. “It’s been like that for a while, did I never tell you?”

Even in the darkness, Tsumugi can tell Natsume is shaking his head. He sighs.

“Well… that’s how it is. Some days it gets better than others. Bearable.”

“Is that why you get so restless?” Natsume asks, leaning forward. “How come you hadn’t told me _before_?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It _does_.” Natsume tells him--he sounds the slightest bit upset now. “Especially because I can _actually_ do something about it.”

Tsumugi almost laughs again- even in his head, Natsume is acting as responsible of his well-being as he is lately in real life. It is only out of respect that he limits himself to a smile, and Natsume steps closer at that, under the small light of crack on the roof, as if sensing he wasn’t being taken seriously.

 “ _Hey._ ” He calls Tsumugi, a frown clearer in his expression, “You’re acting _strange._ ”

“Said the pot to the kettle.” Tsumugi retorts, confident to actually talk back in the safety of his mind. He can tell for sure that Natsume’s face is tight, but he seems more thrown off than insulted, standing his ground under the little bit of light in the room.

“What are you talking about?”

“You tell me.” Tsumugi replies, looking up to have his eyes to meet with Natsume’s. “I’ve also noticed the changes in you--” He looks down right away, losing his nerve when he realizes he still has uncertainty to hold on to. “--I think.”

Regardless of Tsumugi coming back to his usual meek self, Natsume remains stiff. He looks down as well, almost embarrassed.

“...What kind of _changes?_ ” He asks, quietly. Tsumugi can’t help but mumble now, with a kind of awkwardness that mimics Natsume’s right now.

“Um,” He goes, “Well…”

“ _Well?_ ” Natsume presses, impatient.

“Well--!” Tsumugi tries, nervous, “You’re, um--nice. Nicer than usual--I already thought you were kind, but lately--and last night--”

The last part makes Natsume’s eyes widen.

“What about last night?”

 “I...uh.” Tsumugi looks up sheepishly, guilty despite having no control over sensing and seeing Natsume curl up to him the way he had. “You kind of… I noticed that you...got close…”

Natsume says nothing. He just stares, wide-eyed--even mortified to have been told as much. Tsumugi can’t help but feel even guiltier at the sight, but he’s too confused to just let it go. Too uncertain. So it is with all his will that he dares to keep his eyes on the oracle’s, his expression almost pleading despite his tiredness and the million other things running through his mind right now. This was Tsumugi’s current priority, and it showed.

“Please, Natsume-kun…” He says, so quietly and so earnestly. “You have to tell me what’s in your mind. Even if just here, in my head.”

Once again, all he gets from the redhead is stunned and dead silence.

They keep at it for a while, just staring uninterrupted at each other with nothing but the faint noises of the old creaking wood of the hut and the ocean’s far but insistent waves crashing away in the distance.

The realness of it all almost convinces Tsumugi that this isn’t a dream; every little noise, sight and scent is too vivid to be made up. He thinks right then that this is all happening--that Natsume had actually walked into his room to check on him as Sora had earlier in the day, but the following moment is what would make him know for sure that this was just his imagination:

After staring in complete silence for so long, as if debating with himself, Natsume walks forward.

Looming over Tsumugi the way Eichi had in his first dream and aided by the fact that he was standing as Tsumugi sat up in bed, he very slowly--almost fearfully-- brushes Tsumugi’s cheek with his hand.

Tsumugi then, feeling almost in the midst of a quiet but not unwanted trance and with a familiar weight pitting into his throat and stomach, finds it extremely easy to lean into the softness of touch, his eyes fluttering half-closed at the warmth of Natsume’s delicate and pale fingers, but never letting his look completely leave Natsume’s.

Something in Natsume’s eyes seems to glow then, even in the dark, the golden swirls around his pupils looking the clearest and prettiest Tsumugi has ever seen since the very first time he looked at him and thought him an otherworldly goddess. In a way, he sort of still does.

The moment is quiet and warm and everything Tsumugi _thinks_ he has experienced before, but the librarian can’t quite compare it to anything else. Right now, the only thing that exists is Natsume, and he confirms it by wordlessly holding on to Natsume’s wrist--not tight enough to pull, but just something to be noticed.  

With that, he almost immediately feels Natsume’s free hand reach for his other cheek--almost too eager—and he can’t help it--Natsume is acting so precious and careful Tsumugi closes his eyes for him, as if letting him know he’d completely trust and wouldn’t judge his next move.

Which is when Natsume finally leans forward to brush his lips against Tsumugi’s in a kiss so soft it feels shy and restrained; perhaps too long and unmoving and quiet and even a little strange--but at the same time so, _so_ right.

Heart in his throat even by the time Natsume pulls back, Tsumugi finds it in him to crack a small and nervous—even incredulous— smile. It feels forbidden to speak up; like it will break a spell they’re both under, but Tsumugi is too overwhelmed to not say something—anything at all, when he finally half-opens his eyes.

“That was...ah…”

Even with Tsumugi not finishing his sentence, Natsume still says nothing. He just stares expectantly for him to finish his reaction, one hand still over Tsumugi’s cheek.

Unsure how to reply to those wishful eyes on him, Tsumugi just manages a nervous chuckle.

“Um…”

 “...Yes?” Natsume prompts, an uncharacteristic shake in his voice.

Tsumugi quiets down for a moment that stretches on so much it feels eternal even to him--he can’t even imagine how it must be for Natsume. So he tries to get his thoughts in order right then, for his sake, and realizes one thing:

Things don’t come this easily to him in reality; they never feel this right or this natural--thinking clearly, Natsume’s warmth, awkwardness and the safety and quiet romance of this moment is as surreal as the bloody chess game and his rotating opponents taking turns to remind him of all the bad in his life. It’s just the opposite now, a dream recreating all the good he can never have in his life instead of looking for ways to remind him of all the bad and all he lost.

He knows it perfectly because his mind can be cruel like that. It makes perfect sense. 

In short...what Tsumugi understands here doesn’t matter, because it isn’t even happening.

So he just smiles sadly at Natsume, melancholic but grateful for a good moment in a sea of gruesome nightmares.

“Thank you for this wonderful dream, Natsume-kun…” He tells him, softly. “I’ll hold on to it for as long as I can. I’m truly grateful.”

For a moment, Natsume has no reaction.

Then, all at once, his eyes widen and his lips just part slightly, an almost inaudible but obvious ' _Oh'_ escaping him.

“...Natsume-kun?”

The Oracle just slowly backs away, his hand leaving Tsumugi’s face to brush some mismatched strings of red hair behind his ear, almost sheepish.

“You’re... _welcome.”_  Natsume mumbles, quietly. “Feel no need to address it upon waking up.”

“Yeah--” Tsumugi forces out a laugh. “You’d probably hit me if I suggested this happened, right?”

Natsume does not laugh. In fact, he doesn’t look the slightest bit amused by this at all, even as he forces out a reply.

“... _Right_.”

That said, Tsumugi allows himself to lay back down, expecting the jolt that is supposed to wake him up to come any minute now.

Natsume sighs at the sight and walks up to him once more, despite his very clear urge to get out of the room.

“You know how when you _fall asleep_ in a dream you wake up in real life?” He suggests.

Tsumugi perks up at that, smiling slightly--and noticing the strange emphasis on the words.

“Ah--that must be it.” He agrees, nodding drowsily. “Thank you again…”

“Mm. _Sleep_ _.”_ Natsume goes, looking down, coating his voice in something familiar and low. “I shall see you in the _morning_.”

“Thank you again,” Tsumugi tells him, suddenly feeling his eyes even heavier yet.

He sort of hears Natsume walking out of the room, and then feels so utterly tired he blacks out a little after that.

 

\---

As expected, the next time he comes to, Tsumugi is all alone in his room in the morning.

What he doesn’t expect, however, is the fresh memories of the dreams and situations from the previous day--every single sequence still feels as vibrant as he remembers, and it goes especially for the very last one, as he swears he can still recall all too well the weight, scent and warmth of Natsume’s presence in his room and right in front of him.

When Tsumugi studies how he felt during it all, he knows something for a fact:

He has a _lot_ to sort out.

Starting, of course, of his feelings towards that kiss in his dream--and towards Natsume, especifically.

 


	14. Rewind (Part 2)

 

The first time Tsumugi ever kissed someone, he was in his late teens.

Strangely enough, in a way, it didn’t even count as Tsumugi’s:

It was late at night in one of the many properties under the Tenshouin name, and the young blonde lord struggled to breath. The marble hallways echoed with the clicking of heeled shoes of maids and nurses as they ran in and out of the young noble’s room with blankets, towels and different kinds of herbs and medicine. Among them was a young Tsumugi with frightened eyes and a face-mask covering his nose and mouth, trying his absolute best to execute every single order he kept getting from the older servants, even if they contradicted each other or didn’t make all that much sense. One could plainly see that he was a little _too_ determined to help in any way he could.  

All in all, it wasn’t like this was a particularly serious situation; all workers were warned and often reminded from the moment they were hired that Eichi Tenshouin had the strangest and most awful health and that he could die any day without a moment’s notice, so most of them were numb to the blonde’s pain by this point.

Tsumugi, on the other hand, and despite having worked in the castle for already a couple years as the young noble’s personal and closest assistant, always felt like every attack or complication would be the last and that his sole responsibility in life was to find every possible way to prevent it.

That feeling was made worse with the fact that he knew by then how embarrassingly in love he was with his young master--but who cares about that, right? It was just a despicable and scandalous little secret, an attraction he was sure would never go anywhere.

Plus, to make matters even more complicated, Eichi already had a lover at that point, someone who’d been there before Tsumugi was even hired-- a red-headed, bright eyed and whimsical knight from the capital named Leo, who often sneaked into castle grounds to meet the sickly lord. Whenever they weren’t enchanting each other with their equally eccentric personalities and their touchy encounters, Eichi would talk nonstop of his little knight, wondering of his current whereabouts and always sounding so eager and hopeful for their next encounter. One wouldn’t think someone as serious and in such a tragic condition could’ve been as romantic or wistful- but if anyone knew that, it was Tsumugi.

Tsumugi, in fact, knew a lot more than that. He knew that Eichi could be as childish and strange as he was beautiful and brilliant, and he cherished every moment by his lord’s side as secretly and shamefully as he was able to, including even the moments his lord spoke so highly of someone else, his heart taken, but at the very least, happy.

And as long as Eichi was happy, so was he--but that wasn’t the case right now, as his lord was in terrible pain, and therefore, he felt it as well, even if just in his heart.

“Aoba-kun.” An adult woman’s voice called, snapping him from his thoughts, “Did you hear what I just said?”

“Ah-” Tsumugi went, and shook his head sheepishly. He’d been up for hours past his usual curfew by now, so exhausted he couldn’t help spacing out in between conversations. This was no excuse to the other servants, of course, as they were all in the same boat. The old maid that just called out to him sighed, exasperated.

“Good grief, child...”

“I’m so sorry--it was about the young master, right?”

“Right... The coughing finally calmed down and he managed to fall asleep.” The maid informed him, taking a moment to look over her shoulder at Eichi’s door, the room finally silent for the first time in the night. Tsumugi followed her glance, smiling drowsily at the good news.

“That’s such a relief...I’m so glad.”

“So are we all, but we can’t relax quite yet.” She told Tsumugi, turning her look to him now. “We’ll be taking turns to observe him during the night, just in case there’s more complications.”

“Oh,” Tsumugi nodded, firm despite his exhaustion. “I understand. I got the first shift, right?”

The woman nodded.

“Yes, do try to hold on all the way. We’ll pick someone else to change places with you by midnight, so don’t fall asleep.”

That was an hour more to stay up. It sounded like an awful chore at the moment, but Tsumugi didn’t say anything--he was glad, in fact, that he could get to go first, thinking wistfully of how fast and uneventful it was to pass if Eichi was already better.

After around half an hour, he was proved wrong by coughing that interrupted him as he read by Eichi’s bedside--it was faint, something the young lord was obviously trying but failing to hide. Tsumugi got up immediately, leaning over to try to get a look at his expression.

“My lord-”

Eichi somehow managed a pained smile as his mouth twitched, doing a poor job of containing his next rough cough.

“How in the world did you hear that?” The blonde managed to ask, his voice so raspy Tsumugi cringed a bit at it, leaning to tuck him further into the bed instead of answering.

“Hey, tell me how you heard…” Eichi laughed, weak but as amused as ever, “Don’t ignore me.”

“You shouldn’t be talking right now…” Tsumugi mumbled, trying hard not to let his flustered expression show. “So I won’t talk right now--uh, after this.”

That made Eichi chuckle even more.

“My….how serious and grave you sound. That’s not in character for you at all, my little knight.”

The nickname froze Tsumugi in place, and he slowly backed away as soon as it really sank in.

“...My lord?”

“It’s a funny little game, though, so I’ll go along.” Eichi told him, his smile small but playful. “So I’ll do all the talking tonight... It’s okay.”

It was usually hard to tell if Eichi was being serious or just messing with him, but the loving in his voice was enough to tell Tsumugi that the young lord really believed he was looking at his lover right then.

The right thing would’ve been to correct the delirious and tired Eichi right then--to think about the lack of light in the room and the sickness and the fact that Tsumugi was far too tall and different to be Leo no matter how badly Eichi wanted him to be, but an ugly and selfish part of the servant yelled out at him to play along, impatient and tempting and by then innocent enough to believe there would be no consequence to his actions.  

So it was just what he did in a guilty whim--he played along in the dark, leaning closer to Eichi, but not close enough to allow him to identify his face, and seeming very pleased by that, Eichi held out a hand. Tsumugi wordlessly took it, his cheeks growing hot and his heart fuller and heavier than ever as he felt his fingers interlacing with his lord’s.

“Where were you just now, I wonder…” Eichi whispered, so softly Tsumugi almost shivered, “I was in such pain. Do you know how many times I called out for you?”

Tsumugi said nothing, staring intently at Eichi’s tired but adoring expression, wondering how he’d never seen this face before despite his years of service. Eichi grinned then, softly.

“You sure are committed to this game... you’re so strange.”

And again, Tsumugi said nothing. He only nodded as he squeezed Eichi’s hand the slightest bit tighter, and Eichi hummed at it.

“Well, quietness isn’t suiting of you...but I’m not complaining. I love any side of you.”

The word ‘love’ curled and tightened around Tsumugi’s throat with a vice grip. He wanted so badly to say something back--anything at all, but he had to keep silent and in character to protect his identity. Tsumugi Aoba couldn’t be caught dead even thinking these thoughts, so saying them out loud…

“My little knight,” Eichi called right then, his eyes closing, “I’m sorry, but despite my best efforts... I’m feeling tired. Won’t you at least kiss me goodnight if you won’t talk to me?”

Tsumugi’s mouth opened in impulse to refuse the favor and finally reveal himself, but no sound came out at all. He just stared for a moment, trying to weight his guilt against his infatuation in order to stop himself from doing anything stupid, but his feelings burned inside his chest so strongly he was starting to feel dizzy. Eichi was probably falling asleep by this point, as his grip on his hand got significantly weaker, and it was the final fuel for Tsumugi’s decision:

_I’m only following an order_ , he told himself, as he slowly leaned forward.

_It’s not like he’s going to remember this in the morning_ , he thought, as he closed his eyes.

_He will never even know it was me,_ he finally decided, his lips brushing against Eichi’s--chaste, mindful of the lord’s sickness from the night but uncaring of it. He wasn’t going to be picky if he had only one chance, and short and uneventful as it was, he was cherishing it--crushing guilt insulting him and weighting inside of him and all.

By the time Tsumugi willed himself to pull back, he covered his mouth in disbelief and shock at himself-- hit all at once with the weight of his action. He glanced up at his lord to check for a reaction and noticed, with relief, that Eichi was already asleep. That feeling only lasted him a moment, though, as he knew he’d be stuck the rest of his days knowing he’d crossed a line that nobody was to ever know about.

In retrospect, that one kiss was like a little seed, ready to grow into something bigger and messier; and it would actually turn out to be a pretty good representation of what his love life was to become in a few years.

It was also the mark one of the last times Tsumugi’s main source of anxiety would be mere heartache.

\--

A year later, Tsumugi’s hands and clothes were soaked in a stranger’s blood.

The palace’s guest room was quiet save the daunting ticking of a mostly decorative grandfather clock, and the world outside the window was just as cheerful as any other spring morning, birds flocking around the garden’s fountain with a sunny, windless day shining on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all. Tsumugi found the contrast disturbing, as he had figured at that point that moonlight, gray skies, rain or thunder were meant to follow right after terrible happenings, but it was then that he unknowingly learned that terrible things were far more mundane than he realized--a fact that he’d continue seeing more than he could ever imagine.

Right then, though, only _his_ own little world had stopped and turned gray. The only other person in the room was an old noble, face-planted over the dirtied dining table and his body completely limp. Tsumugi’s trembling back was pressed to the door despite it already being locked long before deploying his reckless and desperate plan, his breathing labored and his mind racing, praying nonstop that nobody entered the room in the following minutes.

Or hours, really.

Everything had ended so fast he was still having trouble processing it had even happened, but no matter how many times he pinched himself or begged to wake up startled and alone in the servant’s room, he was still right there, joined by a corpse, intensely and nauseously living in the moment after taking an actual human life.

Going over it, he could probably make a case for himself. In a way, he was quite justified for what he’d done---after all, the old man had murderous intentions himself, if the poison Tsumugi had found in his coat was anything to go by, as well as the little plan he heartily glossed over with Tsumugi; one to gift a bottle of his best wine with young Eichi, to celebrate his health.

Tsumugi had been familiar enough with the current political affairs and alliances of the Tenshouin family to see how this particular man would be benefited with Eichi out of the way, so the clues had ended up all too many for Tsumugi not to do anything or wait for a trial that would serve justice far too slowly--or in the worst case scenario, after Eichi’s life was tainted.

The mere thought of such an event happening made Tsumugi feel the kind of desperation and anxiety that pushed him to did what he did; because what he really needed right then was a quick and permanent solution,and that was exactly what he got when he was put in charge not only of putting away the suspicious guest’s coat, but also serving his tea and preparing his snacks as Eichi prepared himself for their meeting.

What followed was obvious, and by now, incorrigible. A kitchen knife and clumsy, desperate slashes to the man’s throat spoke for themselves.  

_Knock, knock._

Tsumugi gasped so loud he could hear he even startled the person on the other side.

“Oh-!” A familiar voice went, and then laughed shortly. “Sorry, did I knock that suddenly?”

Thankfully, it was just the right person he could react to.

“M-My lord...” Tsumugi breathed, unable to contain his feelings; some sort of mix between relief and worry. Eichi was somehow both the person he wanted to see the most and the least, and it showed. The blonde laughed again, amused with his servant’s nerves.

“Yes, it’s me. Why is the door locked?”

Tsumugi hesitated. He couldn’t even muster the force to stutter, and when he glanced back at the table, the image of the well-dressed corpse went back into full focus after a good few minutes of mindless, blurry panic. After he said nothing, he heard the young lord knock again, slightly harder.

“...Tsumugi.” Eichi repeated, this time with authority--so subtle, but so clear to the servant. The tone alone was enough for Tsumugi’s entire upper body to straighten, as if pulled by a string.

“Y-Yes?”

“Why don’t you want me to enter the room?”

“I…” Tsumugi managed, knowing full well that he had to answer, but struggling with how. Eichi was completely quiet then, but it was clear he expected an answer. Tsumugi gulped when he realized there was no real way out of the tricky, terrible ordeal.

If he was to face punishment, he figured he might as well get it over with.

“...M-My lord,” The servant stammered, finally, “I’ll let you into the room in a moment, but I need you to let me talk about what you’re about to see--and to not ask or say anything until I’m done.”

It was completely preposterous to be the one to give an order, but thankfully, Tsumugi knew that the one noble who would even be willing to entertain such a strange request was Eichi. And surely enough, the blonde was aware that if Tsumugi was asking this, it was for good reason. Tsumugi heard his answer after a short pause.

“...Alright. I’ll listen.”

With that, Tsumugi slowly opened the door to only let him see his face; he found the expression he expected out of his lord, one of serenity and even a little intrigue. He was grateful for this, but so unsure about the reaction to the body he had no room to feel relieved just yet. He sighed as he fully opened the door.

Eichi cooly stepped into the guest room as soon as Tsumugi allowed him to, and he was quick enough to spot the casualty and everything that was off about Tsumugi's attire. The lord's blue eyes widened as his lips parted slightly in awe.

Before he had any chance to say anything, though, Tsumugi stepped in front of him, his expression anguished.

“T-This is--my doing.” Tsumugi started, all of his mental preparation falling apart in a second; he was feeling his entire body tremble with guilt and anxiety despite having already come to terms with the fact that he’d be having this conversation, but forced himself to keep talking, eyes shut tightly to save himself from the entirely disappointed expression Eichi must’ve made:

“My lord, I...don’t know what came over me. I-I just...I had to do something, anything at all. It all seemed so clear at the moment because I sensed such danger coming from our guest, but I couldn’t think straight and it seemed like anything was to happen too soon if I didn’t take any action, and I--”

Tsumugi felt his nose run and his tears come down so heavily and quickly he should’ve been humiliated, but it was nothing against the thought of failing the family that had saved him and given him purpose. His trembling hands were brought to his face then, to sob louder and sharper and make at least a little attempt at hiding his unsightly, pathetic expression.

“I--!” He continued, broken, “I only wanted to help you in any way I can, but I was so stupid and reckless and rash and I am so deeply, incredibly sorry-- I’ll readily accept any punishment at all for this terrible, horrible--!”

“Tsumugi.”

That was it. The way Eichi pronounced his name was all Tsumugi needed to understand that the lord had heard enough--that this irreversible act had been too much to be explained or cried over, and the rest came together in Tsumugi’s mind; his firing, his shameful future--if there was one at all. There was little he didn’t consider with just that one word.

What he didn’t expect at all when he uncovered his face to dare look at Eichi, though, was a smile.

And it was not just any smile. There was something in it--pride. Satisfaction. The lord stepped towards Tsumugi before the servant could finish processing his reacting, just to grab his trembling shoulders with a gentle grip.

“Please stop apologizing… especially after such a good job.”

Tsumugi’s heart stopped.

“Huh-?”

Eichi chuckled as if he couldn’t see the confusion in Tsumugi’s wide, wide eyes.

“Sure, it’s not the cleanest of deeds, but it was actually quite a good call. I’m really impressed you of all people were the one to make it.”

... _What?_

There was no way this was real. 

“I…” Tsumugi said, between a sob. “I don’t understand…?”

The lord’s smile remained as he explained.

“My family and I had our suspicions about this fellow’s intentions with today’s sudden meeting, and if _you_ saw through him so plainly, we can rest assured we were right about him.” He said, casually enough. He let go of Tsumugi’s shoulders then, to stroll around the room as he continued explaining. “So... I know you had a good enough reason, even if not the cleanest or most thought-through method, but that’s perfectly understandable. It’s impressive how far you were willing to go for something so improvised.” 

It was safe to say that the more Eichi talked, the less Tsumugi understood. He knew from the getgo that the man wasn’t in the Tenshouin’s good graces, but for Eichi to be so glad about _murder_ \--

Eichi speaks up again, understanding of Tsumugi’s astonishment.

“Well...to make a long story short, you have nothing to worry about right now. You have shown a keen eye for suspicion and loyalty to me in the best possible way, Tsumugi--it’s as simple as that. With this I know I can trust you completely.”

That alone, horribly enough, was already erasing Tsumugi’s doubts--because he was useful and loyal in Eichi’s eyes, the things he longed for and wanted to prove the most. His breath caught as he soaked in the praise, for a moment even forgetting about the corpse in the room.

“You--you can, my lord. Now and always…”

Eichi turned on his heel to smile warmly at him.

“I know this now.” He said, and then glanced towards the noble’s body, and hummed. “If you’d like to help me further, we still have to clean this mess. Maybe next time we can plan together so things don’t end up quite this ungraceful?”

Tsumugi blinked wearily, unable to ignore for even a moment what Eichi’s words implied.

“Next time?”

The relief he was feeling slowly started feeling like dread again, for his wonderful, beautiful lord only laughed cooly at the fear tinted in his words.

“Well...now that you’ve shown me you can do something like this, it would be a waste not to make use of it, right? With the right people in on it, we could find so many ways for me to actually make some changes that mattered into my court and ruling,” Eichi explained, already thrilled with all the possibilities that came with deleting just the right people. Tsumugi could feel himself shudder, but even then, Eichi was considerate enough to turn to him, slightly more restrained from running off with his plans.

“Though...I can imagine you mustn't been feeling all too well with what you’ve just done, right?”

Instead of answering, Tsumugi could only lower his head. Eichi noded, understanding.

“Of course...I see.” He continued, a lot less enthusiastic, but otherwise calm. “I can’t just tell you to repeat something like that and expect you to be okay with it right away. That’s perhaps a little too much to ask.”

Somehow, that reasoning felt worse to Tsumugi than being asked to repeat murder--the mere idea that maybe Eichi had expected too much of him.

Eichi sighed then and began walking ahead of him, ready to leave the room.

“For now, we should probably go to my chambers and wait for a servant to walk up on this and assume suicide, or we could quickly come up with something to cover this up. And as for everything else--”

“--I’ll do it.”

Eichi stopped on his tracks. There was a moment of silence before he turned to look at Tsumugi.

“...What?”

This was the perfect chance for Tsumugi to reconsider.

Anything would’ve been fine--a simple cough or reassurance that he heard wrong or said nothing, a lie-- but Tsumugi couldn’t handle that. All he could think right then was that he might as well get used to the vile in his throat and blood in his hands if he ever wanted to feel as competent and useful as he did when Eichi praised him, even if it was at the cost of his remaining morality. He gulped hard before speaking up, shaky but determined.

“I said..I don’t need to think about it or make you reconsider your plans, my lord.” Tsumugi assured, his head now held high.  “I’ll do this again. And as many times as it is needed--all so I may help you best.”

The promise, though a horrible one, was received with hopeful silence on Eichi’s part as he realized the weight and seriousness of Tsumugi's words, like a barrier between them had fallen right then. Eichi stepped towards him again, amazement clear in his eyes as he clearly saw how his most mously, meek and weakest servant had sealed his fate in such a way; all just for his sake.

“Do you really mean this, Tsumugi?”

Not really.

Just thinking about blood made the servant sick, and the idea to willingly plan and repeat such an act somehow made him even sicker. Tsumugi’s nod was firm, though, as he let himself fall into one knee. It’s a good thing he had nothing to lose at this point and that his frightened eyes could be shut for this terrible vow and that the words he needed to say were too few to taste the vile in his mouth too long.

“I do, my lord. Like I said before...now and always.”

“...Now and always,” Eichi repeated, quietly amazed at such determination. Tsumugi could imagine his smile then, subtle but pleased. The noble stepped quietly towards him to touch his shoulder.

“And, Tsumugi?”

Tsumugi raised his head slowly.

“Yes?”

“That title won’t be necessary if it’s just the two of us.”

The servant could only blink up incredulously at such simple but unreal words.

“...My lord?”

Eichi’s laugh was short.

“From now on, just ‘Eichi’ will do.”

...Ah.

Just like that?

How horrible was it that just that felt like enough of a reward for what he’d just done?

And worse enough, that it already felt like justification for future deeds?

All Tsumugi could take from that moment was that this was the end of his days as a common servant.


	15. Want

Deep green. All around, up and down.

The buzz and scenery of a forest in the middle of the night surrounds Natsume, but a simple glance at the landscape tells him this isn’t the green from the Old Lands that he’s used to; and despite that, it’s a familiar place. He can’t quite pinpoint how.

The Oracle doesn’t get to question anything just yet, though. He has no need to, as a scene plays out before his very eyes too fast to even realize he isn’t meant to be here.

“Your majesty-”

A voice Natsume doesn’t know speaks up, coming along the rustling of nearby plants. When he turns to look, he finds someone emerging from the bushes, his clothes tattered and dirtied by twigs and stray leaves: a red-headed man with a handsome but young face, most noticeable in his wide violet eyes, still so full of expression. The youth stares directly in his direction, seeming concerned beyond words. Natsume stares back in silence, and when he opens his mouth to finally address him, his own voice isn’t the one to come out.

“Yeah, I’m right here~” He tells him, in a singsong tone he knows--one Natsume would never really make for a stranger, but finds himself doing right now. His words come out of his mouth so naturally he can’t really stop himself. “Stop worrying so much, Suo. I’m alright.”

That name somewhat rings a bell. The young man--Suo, apparently, shakes his head frantically at such a cold command.

“How can you expect me not to?” He asks, his voice attempting but failing to hide hurt. “I just want you to stop wandering off like that, what if something else were to happen?”

Natsume looks to the ground, strangely guilty to upset the stranger. Regardless, he can only muster the energy to shrug, somehow feeling even more exhausted than anything. Suo sighs and looks to the side, as if expecting that answer.

“Alright…” He mutters, and clears his throat to urge himself to sound firm. “Anyway--the campfire is a long way from here, but if we hurry up, we can still take some time to warm up and eat something before we are on our way.”

“Okay, got it...” Natsume goes, and sighs, feeling pessimistic. “What are we gonna do if it isn’t there, though?”

“It” means nothing to Natsume, but it somehow feels important enough to ask about. Kind of like a goal; and though Suo frowns at the question, his expression turns determined. He walks towards Natsume, and to his surprise, the young man is actually far taller than he is, as he’s unconsciously forcing himself to crane his neck up in order to look at him. Up this close, the hope in Suo’s eyes burns clear, though fickle.

“It will be.” He says, without a doubt. “And if it is not...we shall figure something else out. I promise that.”

Such a gallant claim would’ve impressed Natsume a lot more if he were younger, but despite his memories of dashing, dreamy and noble gentlemen being long buried under the truth of the liars and tricksters of real nobles he’s met, he can’t help but still feel reassured and swayed by Suo’s words. He can even feel himself smile at it, his grin uncharacteristically tooty.

“Geez,” He chuckles. “I can’t say anything when you get all princely like that, newbie…”

“That is no word to describe me--” Suo quickly retorts, his cheeks instantly red at the comparison, “A prince is leagues away from a knight!”

Natsume laughs a little louder, as if used to teasing him.

“Alright, alright, whatever you say.” He stretches, feeling already a little more cheerful by getting a reaction out of what looks like his traveling companion. “We should go back to camp, I’m starving.”

Suo nods, his expression steady once more.

“Right--you should fill up your canteen before that, though.”

Natsume looks down at himself to notice that he actually carried such an item in a pouch he hadn’t noticed before--and in his glance, a tangled braid comes into vision.

“Eh-?"

With that bright orange detail popping so clearly in his eye, everything else starts coming into view: his own clothes, just as dirtied as Suo’s-- as if he’d been out with him in the open for days. Perhaps more. Looking at his own hands, he notices the calluses of sword-fighting and more he has no idea about--and it is finally strange enough for him to want an actual explanation of his current situation.

“Your...majesty?” Suo calls out, noticing his surprise. Natsume becomes conscious of the strange title now that it’s been called a second time, and notices, with relief, a nearby river. He runs past the knight to kneel over not for the water, but his reflection:

The surprised, bruised and freckled face of Leo Tsukinaga stares back at him.

And then he finally wakes up.

\--

All things considered---including the exhausting flashes of visions and events that began plaguing his mind after the night of closeness he shared with Tsumugi, Natsume is being remarkably calm about his rejection.

Well--at least it felt like rejection. Not many people can kiss the person they love and have them tell them it’s nothing but a dream without expecting feelings to not be at least a little hurt.

Not to say Natsume is hurt. That would be childish, and he’s above that.

_Really._

...Regardless of frustrated words he might have shared with Sora the morning after, though, Natsume is being as graceful as he can be about the whole ordeal; it’s not a very surprising turnout, all things considered...like he’d known all along, Tsumugi’s still not at a stage where he can just allow himself affection so easily, so the fact that he had kissed back at all was kind of miraculous on itself.

That said, it’s all back to square one right now: building up a tense-free atmosphere at home, no matter how overwhelming the urge to punch Tsumugi gets--or to kiss him again. Either is definitely strong enough to be tipped over at any given moment, but it’s not like Natsume’s unfamiliar with that by now. Sora is a big help and motivation to remain cool-headed and just the slightest bit distant, as the child remains supportive and respectfully quiet of his knowledge despite being fully aware of the changing feelings and tension in the air.

With all of that laid in place, Tsumugi himself, though acting a little awkward, is slowly coming out of the funk that kept him in the library for days. The biggest show of it is definitely his interest to pick back up his lessons in magic after a busy week of visits and mind-blowing anxiety, which Natsume is more than happy to accept--a good way to feel a sense of normality in his life once more and not, well… whatever was starting to happen between the two of them.

And of course, normality is what he wants right now.

... _Really._

-

_Thud!_

Tsumugi yelps, taken aback by the sudden placement of a particularly heavy book right in front of him. Natsume rolls his eyes at this as Sora giggles behind a hand.

Despite his best efforts, Tsumugi’s spacing out, though not as bad as before, is a persisting little habit. His current situation doesn’t help either, as the orange light of sunset adorning the dining room and a full stomach after a good meal are all inviting to lay low and relax. The Oracle is not too amused by this, squinting at Tsumugi’s lack of focus.

“You keep _daydreaming_.” Natsume tells him, and Tsumugi can only excuse himself with a humorless laugh.

“Sorry, I’m trying not to…”

“Well, work _harder._ ” Natsume simply tells him, and then gestures towards the book. “Speaking of work, you should take a look at _this._ ”

“Huh?”

Natsume stares.

“Were you paying any attention to what we were saying just _now_?”

A beat. Sora can be heard laughing faintly at Tsumugi’s side; Natsume looks like he’s fighting the urge to hit him with the book, but nothing happens. A confused Tsumugi just stares back in bewilderment before the Oracle just sighs and points at the book once more, seeming tired.

“We were talking about maybe exploring another type of magic when it comes to you, since your progress with the basics is still so _slow_.”

“Oh,” Tsumugi says, his cheeks the slightest bit colored at such a blunt remark on his prowess. “I’m still sorry about that.”

“It’s not about being _sorry_.” Natsume tells him, crossing his arms. “It was _foolish_ of me to not take into consideration other areas of expertise besides charms and potion-making. The fact that Sora is naturally good at them is a rarity on itself, so…”

Despite being offered what sounded sort of like an apology, Tsumugi can’t help but still feel a little guilty; he’d already received useful advice from Wataru regarding his poor performance with charms, but truth be told is he’d hardly thought about it ever since. It’s hard for someone so easily swayed to find a purpose for magic that doesn’t feel dishonest or important enough to cast with it in mind, after all. He almost wants to tell Natsume as much, but already feels too much of a bother to not at least peek at the book he had taken his time to pick out especially.

Tsumugi ends up just quietly blinking up at Natsume before taking the book into his hands; the title and images catch his eye pretty much immediately.

“....Fortune-telling?”

Natsume nods once.

“ _Right_. Divination is a very different practice than what Sora and I are used to, but it’s still _magic_.”

A weary blink escapes Tsumugi, confusion written all over his face.

“Wait, we aren’t practicing charms or potion-making at all today, then?”

“Not _you_ , at least.” Natsume explains, pointing at the book once more. “I want you to read as much as you can of this _today_.”

“Oh-” Tsumugi flips through the pages, skimming through the text to find that the runes and images outnumbered the words. Sora looks at what little he can catch by peeking over Tsumugi’s shoulder, a curious hum escaping him.

“That’s a lot to study, sir!”

“Yeah...” Tsumugi goes, his eyes wide with expectation. “If I recall correctly, no divination is ever the same, even if you’re doing it for the same person.”

The Oracle nods once more, mostly to himself.

“Any old fool can read fortunes for an easy coin, but it takes a lot of work to do it _right_.” He tells them, to which Tsumugi gives him a concerned look.

“You...seriously think I have what it takes to do it right?”

“More like I don’t see why _not_ ,” Natsume retorts, all too quickly. “I give credit where credit is due. You may be _bad_ with charms, but you can hold your ground with reading comprehension.”

Sora nods along enthusiastically.

“That’s pretty perfect for Sir when Master puts it like that, yeah...Sora’s surprised we didn’t look into this before!”

“Reading?” Tsumugi asks, feeling as lost as ever, but Natsume doesn’t seem fazed by it. The Oracle simply sits down with him and Sora, reaching to find a page in the book to properly explain himself.

“That is the base of fortune-telling, in a way--reading and interpreting according to what you see in your _medium_.” He starts, stopping in the earlier parts of the text to show Tsumugi images so abstract they mostly resembled ink stains. “If you were using tea leaves, for example, you’d have to learn what the most common shapes mean in theory before you start putting your personal input into the _reading_.”

“Tea leaves--seriously?” Tsumugi goes, just barely keeping up, “You can use something like that?”

“And cards, the stars, crystal balls, gemstones, even the lines of one’s palms. You’d be surprised with the _range_ of subjects fortune-telling has.” Natsume assures, flipping through the book to illustrate his examples. Sora hums, his enthusiasm clear in just that.

“That’s so interesting!” He calls, and smiles at Tsumugi. “Sir should read Sora’s fortune as soon as he can!”

“ _If_ I can…” Tsumugi goes, laughing. He turns to Natsume, a tight smile on his face. “I honestly think you’re giving me a little too much credit, but I’ll try my best.”

“Mhm. Don’t _try_ , just do it.” Natsume tells him, looking sideways to give a big yawn. He gets up then, intent on walking away from the dining table. “Just do some memorizing today. Now, if you both shall excuse me…”

“Where’s master going?” Sora asks, tilting his head up. Natsume looks over his shoulder just for him.

“My room, to rest up a bit.”

“Oh,” Sora goes, scrunching his nose. “The music still calls Master?”

The Oracle sighs, to which the boy’s expression softens in understanding.

“...That’s alright, Sora knows it gets tiring--and Master did make time to dine and study a little with us.”

“Still, I apologize for my absence.” Natsume says, “Will you be alright just reviewing our potions from earlier?”

A big nod from his apprentice is all Natsume needs to be on his way, his steps tired but poised as ever. As soon as the click of his door is heard, Sora’s easygoing smile is replaced by a small sigh of his own, noticeable enough even by the distracted Tsumugi.

“Is everything okay, Sora-kun?” The librarian asks, touching the boy’s shoulder. Sora gives him a long hum, as if deciding if it’s alright to share.

After not saying anything and receiving no further prompt from Tsumugi, Sora sighs again.

“Well...Sora’s just worried about Master.”

“Oh... Is he okay? He’s been joining us less lately...”

“Um…” The boy goes, unsure. “Master’s feeling...stressed, maybe? No, a better word is...frustrated, kinda. And tired. He has a lot to deal with right now.”

Somewhere in his gut, Tsumugi knows this as well; It’s not that easy to miss, even for him.

One can tell just from noticing the way Natsume didn’t seem to have any big reactions lately--no hits or insults, but none of the little shows of care Tsumugi had noticed during the time before and during Shu’s visit, either, and the obvious bags under his eyes and his various retreats into his room. The possibilities he considers as to why he could feel this way are too silly and unreal, though, so he wills himself to look a little more surprised to hear that than he actually is.

“Really…” He says, unconvincingly. “Do you think there’s something we could do to help?”

That earns him a look from Sora. It’s probably a stretch to call it accusatory, but if the boy can manage such an expression, this is as close as it gets.

“Sir… Sora’s pretty sure we had this conversation before?”

Tsumugi blinks at him.

“Have we?”

The boy’s nod is quick.

“Yeah, right before Lord Itsuki came along…”

“Oh-” Tsumugi manages a laugh. “No, you were telling me how Natsume-kun was being nicer, that’s--”

“What Sora means is the reason is the same--” Sora interrupts, a little more seriously. “And Sir must be aware by this point, right?”

Silence. For a while, Tsumugi can’t really bring himself to say a thing, unable to help feeling the slightest bit scolded by the young boy. There’s no malice on Sora’s end, though, as he only reaches to hold the librarian’s hand, concern softening his seriousness.

“Sir...Sora gets that Master is not the easiest person to understand, but a lot troubles him and nothing good comes out of avoiding difficult situations.” He says, and adds, with a gentle smile; “Confrontation isn’t always bad, y’know…”

As if the grown-up words weren’t enough of a surprise, Tsumugi can never stop feeling so thrown off by the bottomless well of wisdom that the little magician tends to be, always so aware of everything he wants to hide. He smiles down sadly at Sora.

“I know. It’s scary, though--I could make him even more frustrated. I’ve already done that plenty.”

“Or it could turn out Master will be a lot more relieved if he can rely on us both,” Sora retorts, smiling. “Don’t you think?”

That gets Tsumugi to laugh. The way Sora seems to make everything sound so easy continues to impress him enough to forget his anxieties, at least for a moment. He squeezes the boy’s hand tightly.

“Okay, I’ll try to talk to him. Under one condition, though.”

Sora’s eyes practically shine with curiosity.

“Yes?”

“Tell me more about yourself next time we talk, alright?”

Such a request makes the boy blink up, though without his usual flare.

“Sora’s...past?”

“Yeah,” Tsumugi nods, his smile warm despite Sora’s confusion. “You’re always helping me out so much...I’d like to do so as well, and I could start by getting to know you better.”

For a moment, the boy doesn’t say anything, even going as far as letting his grip on Tsumugi’s hand go loose. It’s strange enough for Tsumugi’s cheeks to go red and for his calm demeanor to shatter in an instant, replaced by sheepishness.

“I-I mean,” He says, nervous. “Only if you want to, of course! It’s not like I want to intrude or butt into your personal life so easily, but now that I think about it that was kind of a weird request? Ah, I’m so sorry, maybe you could forget what I said? I should just-”

Sora’s merry laugh interrupts what looked like the start of a mini-break down. Tsumugi quiets down, glad to see that, if anything, at least Sora isn’t upset. The boy has a moment to giggle to his heart’s content, and faces Tsumugi with a happy and teary face.

“Sora’s sorry, sorry--” He says, grinning. “Sir is just too much!”

“Ah...and that’s a good thing?”

“It’s a great thing!” Sora assures, “Sora just doesn’t talk about what he isn’t asked...So Sora’s very happy that Sir is interested at all in anything Sora can tell him!”

“Well, of course I am--isn’t that a given?”

“Sora’s still glad to hear that.” Sora says, reaching out for his hand once more. “So Sora will be happy to tell Sir all he wants to know.”

The change in mood makes it easy for Tsumugi to grin back.

“Just whatever you feel like sharing, okay?”

A nod seals the deal. The moment is so cheery Tsumugi nearly forgets what brought it on in the first place, but the moment he leaves Sora to his studies, there’s more in his mind than the runes he needs to start checking from the old fortune-telling book:

Natsume.

\--

Shortly after sharing notes from their respective studying sessions, Tsumugi takes it upon himself to tuck Sora in. The boy is a little too energetic to give in so easily to rest, so the two of them end up chatting about their findings of the night; turns out, to Sora’s delight, that the basis for fortune-telling is not only interesting to Tsumugi--what he has read so far comes out very easily to him.

It’s all good news, sure, but besides that, the boy noted that it’s the perfect way for Tsumugi to find a segway to actually go and talk to Natsume. The poor librarian, though dutiful and absorbed with his studies, had spent most of his time distracted, trying to figure out what exactly he needed to say to the Oracle before the night ended--not to mention how, and most importantly why.

If anything, he’d at least figured out what he wanted out of everything was for Natsume to be his usual self again--now everything else was left to figure out, but Tsumugi knows himself enough to be aware that he probably wasn’t going to talk at all if he didn’t just go right then to do so.

As Sora gets so sleepy he starts snoring lightly, Tsumugi figures it’s time to go see if Natsume was doing alright. A little part of him wishes for the Oracle to just be asleep as well, but he tries hard to ignore it as he steps before Natsume’s door, feeling oddly nervous about what should just be a reminder of his support. Feeling his chest tight, he closes his eyes and knocks the door.

“...Natsume-kun, are you awake?”

A short while passes, and there’s nothing but silence; It’s probably to be expected given how long ago Natsume had excused himself, right?

Tsumugi considers leaving right then to leave this talk for later, but his eye catches the door handle as he’s about to take his first step back. It hits him right then that all it could take to actually check on Natsume would be a push--if Natsume hadn’t locked himself in, as he used to do whenever he wanted to be left alone. But that much must be the case if he’s so exhausted at the moment, right?

There’s no way the door would’ve just been left open on such a situation--

\--Except that it is, as it swings in with a low and heavy creek the moment Tsumugi pushes the handle just the slightest.

The soundless yelp and scandalized expression Tsumugi made in a split second would’ve probably been hilarious to Sora, were he around. Tsumugi grabs on to the handle with both hands to prevent the door from making any more noise; probably a good call, since he doesn’t hear any scolds nor feels anything hit his face just yet. With a bit of an opening already made, the librarian sneaks just his head into the room, figuring he might as well at least take the chance to personally apologize for his rudeness.

The room would probably be too dark to see a thing in it if not for the open window allowing moonlight in, but thanks to that, Tsumugi can at least make a general view of Natsume’s room; it’s not as big as Eichi’s, if he can recall correctly, but what he can catch of the decoration certainly reminds him of it. He doesn’t have a lot of time to compare, though, as a silhouette groggily sits up in bed, and stares so pointedly Tsumugi knows he’s being glared at.

“.... _You_.” Natsume says, so gravely Tsumugi barely contains a squeak.

“Y-yeah, it’s just me!” Tsumugi says, somehow yelling a whisper. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, I’ll just--”

“Hold on.” Natsume interrupts, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing here in the first place?”

“Uh...” Tsumugi goes, without thinking. He stares helplessly at Natsume, who seems too half-asleep to keep glaring. After he says nothing, Natsume just sighs.

“ _Well_?”

...What was it, anyways?

All things considered, there isn’t a real problem between them. Even if there is, it’s not like Natsume is acting like he does whenever he’s mad at Tsumugi, and it’s not like either of them is mindlessly locking himself into their rooms anymore, so there should be no reason to be here at all or to be feel so worried and guilty.

Yet...here is Tsumugi, anxiously trying to come up with an excuse despite already figuring one out with Sora just a short while ago.

“I, um...wanted to check on you.” He finally manages, his thoughts of fortune-telling vanishing from his mind, feeling unconsciously disingenuous about them and almost as if he’s figuring the truth just now. “Since it’s not even that late and you seem so tired lately--well, all the time. I don’t know... I’m worried. I’m sorry.”

Tsumugi can’t quite make out Natsume’s expression from just that, but the Oracle doesn’t say anything for a moment. Tsumugi almost starts apologizing again, but what Natsume does instead is gesture with an extended hand and waving fingers inward.

...Oh.

The librarian’s eyes widen as he registers the invitation, and he sheepishly allows himself into the room, the door closing behind him with a quiet noise. He strides with a nervous step towards the bed, now getting a better look not only at the lavish room, but at Natsume’s face. If not for the regality the surroundings and sleepwear give him, Tsumugi could’ve described him as rough-looking for his messed hair and bloodshot eyes. It’s turning out obvious he isn’t getting rest lately, and that makes Tsumugi’s nerves shift into concern, even as Natsume’s own expression remains unreadable.

“...Why are you really here?” Natsume finally asks, so quiet Tsumugi barely listens. Before he can say anything, though, Natsume answers himself.

“Could it be that it’s just what you’re used to? Do you _really_ know what you’re doing?” Natsume keeps wondering, seemingly to himself, “Even though I didn’t even call you or allow you in…”

There it must be. The scold Tsumugi was definitely called for; one for which he jumps ahead to defend himself.

“That was rude of me, I know. I just--”

“You know what--I don’t care, actually.” Natsume interrupts, looking at the side. “The visions I’ve had for the past nights are enough for now. I’m too _tired_ for this.”

_Tired_. Both the word and the way he says it seems to imply more than just sleepless nights. Tsumugi sits down at the end of the bed, worried eyes looking in Natsume’s direction.

“I’m so sorry to hear that...Is there anything I could do for you?”

Of course, Tsumugi’s real question sits at the back of his throat; he doesn’t know what Natsume is actually tired of besides the visions Sora vaguely tells him about, and at this point, it feels scary to ask about it--especially when he’s supposed to know what he means. When he thinks he knows what he means.

Thankfully for Tsumugi, Natsume is kind enough not to call out his selfishness. Instead, he looks Tsumugi’s way, his eyes thoughtful. Quietness fills the room once more as the Oracle seems to ponder and wonder what to do to keep tiptoeing around his librarian, just the way Tsumugi’s been doing all along.

When he finally opens his mouth, he sighs once more, lightly.

“You could just...stay _here_.”

“...Here where?” Tsumugi asks, almost in a whisper.

“Where else?” Natsume asks, his annoyance doing a pretty poor job masking embarrassment. “This room-- staying like we were in your library--if you _want_. Just don’t make me spell it out for you.”

Such a request puts a lot more into evidence than Tsumugi would’ve liked, and while it makes him nervous and unable to answer right away, just imagining how Natsume must feel by asking for it already puts him at ease--especially when it comes with the fact that the Oracle isn’t even ordering him to do it. Compelling as he may be, Natsume has kept to his word and has acted as more of a guide than a Master; an effort that hasn’t gone unnoticed, distracted as Tsumugi may be.

So it is that Tsumugi can actually decide; not by saying anything, but simply slipping into bed without a word. It feels redundant to even try to give Natsume his back at this point, already familiar with the way he looks when they’re just a breath apart at night. Natsume follows his movements in silence, turning to face him as Tsumugi lays on his side.

“You  _do_ want this... right?” Natsume asks once he’s settled, carefully--almost fearfully. The tone makes Tsumugi want to nod right away to reassure him, but to his own surprise, he finds himself shrugging a shoulder.

“I...” He says, just as quietly. “If I’m perfectly honest...I don’t know what I want. I know what I _should_ want and I know what I _used_ to want before living here, but right now...I don’t have a clue.”

Though it’s probably a disappointing answer, Natsume nods along after musing over his words.

“...Mm.” He goes, as flatly as he may manage. “I had a feeling you felt that way.”

It stings that he expects this so easily, but Tsumugi also nods, guilty.

“I’m sorry.”

There’s not much Natsume can forgive in this situation to make him feel better, obviously, but Tsumugi still feels a little expectant to hear as much. It doesn’t really come, as Natsume quiets down once more, his expression thoughtful but just as exhausted as it’s been lately. He breathes out lightly, unsure what to do with the moment-- Tsumugi has nothing but his guesses, and the passing thought that even while acting so distant, Natsume remains far too kind to someone like him-- and honestly, how beautiful he looks under moonlight despite his sickly face.

“...Tsumugi.”

The sound of his own name brings Tsumugi away from embarrassing thoughts. It doesn’t come out as that much of a shock anymore, though, as he’s not only aware--but mindful and pleased by the way it sounds spoken out of Natsume’s voice. He hums in response, allowing Natsume to talk once more.

“I don’t mind you not knowing what you want.”

“Oh…” Tsumugi goes, his eyes widening the slightest. “You don’t?”

Natsume shakes his head.

“I’ve told you before... What I really mind is you acting like you don’t have a choice in anything you do or like you don’t want anything at all.”

  
That much makes sense- but Tsumugi can’t help still feeling worried.

“What if I don’t figure it out?” He asks, “Or what if...at the end, I don’t deserve it at all?”

Natsume closes his eyes at this, and shrugs.

“If we’re being honest here...there isn’t much you deserve. Not with your past.”

“See, then-”

“ _However_ -” Natsume says, interrupting right back, “That has nothing to do with what you wish for--what you really want. And that’s all I care about.”

Tsumugi has no words for that. It doesn’t feel right, but Natsume couldn’t be clearer if he tried-- what he deserves doesn’t go. So it means that it’s all acknowledged and taken into consideration...but at the end, it doesn’t matter. Not what he needs, not justice, not morality, not even his own inner demons. Just his own personal desires.

It’s a foreign concept, to say the least.

While he’s left to ponder that, Natsume’s back to looking at him, and without prompt, speaks once more.

“So… that’s all I can tell you right now.” He starts, and then adds, once more; “From now on...just do whatever you want. You don’t need to justify anything, nor give it a name.”  
  
“...Whatever at all?” Tsumugi asks, his heartbeat tightening.

When Natsume nods, everything seems so much easier.

Without a need to give his feelings and reasons a name, without thinking of consequences, guilt or whether he deserves something or not, it’s clearer than ever, as is his own face reflected in Natsume’s golden eyes:

What he wants right now is to cut the distance between his lips and Natsume’s.

And that’s exactly what he does, this time returning much more than a peck.


	16. Bubble

“Haha~”

It’s been two weeks since the night Natsume had his first dream about the lost king-- and two weeks since the library unintentionally turned into a guest room.

“Hehe~”

...And a few moments since Natsume confided about his recent closeness to Tsumugi.

Suffice to say, Sora hasn’t stopped smiling or giggling ever since; Natsume currently sits at the boy’s bedside, cheeks as red as his hair and his look drawn to his lap.

“Sora, _please_.”

“Hihi~” Sora laughs again, giddy and holding his own cheeks in delight. “Sorry, but Sora can’t help it! Not when such a warm, comfortable color-”

“I get it, _please_ -” Natsume interrupts, waving a hand. “ _Please_ try not to make it so obvious.”

“But it is! Even to people who can’t see colors, Sora bets!” Sora goes, chirpy. “Sora has been eagerly awaiting for a development for some time now...How long has Master waited for something like this to happen, anyway?”

"I’d really rather not think about _that._ ” Natsume mutters, still unable to look at his apprentice in the eye. “It just makes me sound _desperate_.”

“Wasn’t that the case?”

Had Tsumugi been the one to say that, his face would’ve been hit already with the nearest non-lethal object in sight. Sora, however, gets away with it with nothing but another embarrassed groan on Natsume’s part. The Oracle can only sink further into his seat, hands to his face like a lovesick teenager.

“Maaaster,” Sora coos, leaning forward to pat his teacher’s shoulder, “It’s okay! Sora is very happy for you!”

“Thank you, but _really_.” Natsume says, peeking from between his fingers. “It’s not a big _deal_.”

“Right, right!” Sora goes, smiling. “Is that all Master wanted to share?”

Oh, Right.

Natsume had visited Sora’s room so early for a real reason--not just embarrassing himself over developments in his love life. The conversation was kind of inevitable with Sora being such a sharp and gossipy kid studying a forming relationship from up close, but Natsume didn’t expect it to be the _first_ thing he would ask about upon being alone with him for the first time in a while.

Nevertheless, Natsume straightens up, gathering enough composure to clear his throat and talk like the Oracle he’s supposed to be.

“No, of course not--it’s about the _music_.”

The word alone makes Sora’s carefree attitude shift. The boy also straightens up, already expectant to hear more.

“Oh--Are master’s visions getting clearer?”

“ _Sort of_.” Natsume says, frowning. “Do you remember Leo Tsukinaga?”

The boy nods once, firm.

“Yup… The king from the capital that Sir tried to hurt but failed, right?”

“The one that went missing, yes.”

The gears in Sora’s head turn fast enough that he doesn’t need much time to figure out where the talk might be going.

“Are Master’s visions about him--where the king might be right now?”

“ _Exactly_.” Natsume confirms, glad with how quickly his apprentice catches up. “I have been dreaming of the outdoors once every other day--just flashes of forests, caves and camping sites, but from _his_ perspective... And he is not _alone_.”

Sora nods along, invested.

“Does Master know who’s keeping the king company?”

“I _think_ I do… I need to write a letter to Shu-niisan to be completely sure.” Natsume tells him, frowning as he recalls Suo’s face. “From what I can gather so far, it could just be an ordinary knight from the capital’s kingsguard, assigned to make sure the king does not mess himself up _further_. Gods know he’d need a nanny.”

“Okay,” Sora goes, looking up to think, “So...the king is alive and camping outdoors with someone, that much we know for sure…. but why does Master keep seeing it? Is the music trying to tell Master that his old friend is safe?”

Such a nice sentiment makes Natsume scoff. His power could never be that reassuring--it only seems to be there to show him unpleasant things regarding the kingdom’s fate.

“I doubt it, but...they seemed to be traveling and like they were looking for _something_.”

“Hmm... Maybe a way back to the castle since the king was lost?”

At that, Natsume can’t even confirm or deny anything. He shrugs, feeling frustrated.

“I have no _idea_. What I told you is all I have right now...and until Shu-niisan coughs up some information, I don’t know who the king’s companion is either or what Leo Tsukinaga wants _so_ badly he cannot be bothered to go back to the _throne_.”

“Well...then that’s that, right?” Sora tries, scooting to place a hand on Natsume’s arm. “We can use Sir’s dove to write him a letter and hope for a speedy reply.”

“Right,” Natsume replies, leaning to the touch. “I just doubt the _speedy_ part, is all. That means more confusing and sleepless nights until the dove gets there. And then waiting to see if he has _any_ time to reply.”

“But that’s something Sir can help with now that you’re sharing the room, right?” Sora asks, grinning up. He expects another flustered expression from his master, but Natsume looks thoughtful--almost guilty. The boy blinks up at him, surprised.

“Master?” He calls once more, prompting Natsume to look away.

“About that...I have my doubts about letting him into _this_.”

“What--into the visions?”

Natsume’s nod is tense.

“Not until I make sure to know what the king wants--Leo--no, _Naga-kun_ … he’s very _fickle_. I doubt he forgives and forgets so _easily_.”

Such an assumption makes Sora gulp--he seemed ready to argue against leaving Tsumugi out of the loop, but the mere implication of mindlessly making him fear for his life gives him second thoughts. His hand clutches a bit tighter to Natsume’s arm on impulse, and he finds himself doubtfully nodding along.

“Oh. That might be for best, then…” The child says, reluctantly. “At least until Master is sure what the king is up to, right?”

“ _Right_ …” Natsume says, sighing as he reaches to pat the boy’s head. “Thank you for agreeing, though. I know how you dislike _hiding_ things.”

Sora pouts.

“A whole lot, yeah.”

“I shall handle this, don’t worry. ” Natsume assures, smiling down slightly. “I just need you to help me by listening to me as you always do while I look for answers. Is that _alright_?”  

That manages to get the boy to smile back, even if a little.

“Of course, that’s what Sora is here for--right?”

“And _much_ more than that.”

The reassurance and praise seems to do wonders on the boy’s disposition, already sunny once more. Sora doesn’t let the conversation die just yet, though, as he seems to realize there’s a suggestion he hadn’t made yet.

“Okay, but…” He starts, looking up to think. “If Lord Itsuki’s help won’t work quickly, maybe Master needs to try seeking help elsewhere?”

“Like where, _exactly_?” Natsume asks, blinking down at his apprentice. The little magician shrugs.

“Well...Master does have more elder brothers to talk to, right?”

_Knock, knock._

The moment for Natsume to answer or even get to think over such an obvious suggestion is cut short by the gentle sound of Tsumugi’s knocks, and shortly after, his muffled voice.

“Sora-kun? Are you and Natsume-kun in there?”

“Uh--yeah!” Sora calls, perfectly emulating his usual cheer despite the serious conversation he just took part in. “Did Sir already finish fishing?”

“Right! There wasn’t all that much since I couldn’t wake up earlier, but I think we’ll be okay if we combine ingredients from yesterday…”

“Then we better go help with that,” Sora calls, and manages a small grin at Natsume. “Right, Master?”

By all means, their chat is over for now. Something within Natsume doesn’t feel quite alright, but he still can’t find a way to make himself not smile back at his apprentice. He gives a little nod and stands up, ready to continue his day as normally as he may.

“.... _Right_.”

\---

Despite the information Natsume decided to keep to himself for the time being, things came together quite naturally on their own over the past two weeks; particularly between him and Tsumugi. A free-willed Tsumugi turned out to be quite eager to give affection, which in turn was a rather perfect fit for the touch-starved Natsume. Thankfully for the two of them, neither was particularly eager to be showy about it anywhere besides in solitude.

For one thing, it wasn’t really intentional for Sora to find out things had changed; in fact, the only real way he realized was his perceptive eye for the unseen, as the house’s dynamic hadn’t actually changed that much in the daytime: Tsumugi remained a well-intentioned if spacey librarian, dutiful to his books and now the basics of fortune-telling, and Natsume remained the poised Oracle, teaching and helping run the house as he always had. The only real noticeable change was the fact that Natsume, though tired as he’s been lately, had stopped being as distant with both of his housemates.

At night, however, is where real differences were crystal clear: it began with Natsume noticing a longing look at the dinner table the day after their first encounter. Perceptive as he is, it was still easy to miss at first because the conversation carried with the food and cleaning felt so mundane, but once he really started paying attention, he realized Tsumugi’s eyes wouldn’t stop glancing his way. Though unexpected from someone so oblivious, Natsume figured the librarian had actual experience with this area--talking without words and secretly asking for permissions he didn’t need anymore.

A brush of Tsumugi’s wrist as Natsume finally retired to his room seemed enough of an invitation for the librarian to show up again about an hour later, silent as a while back but more than ready to kiss his every available inch of mouth and skin. As it was the following night, and the one after that, until looks weren’t really needed anymore and Tsumugi just naturally made way for Natsume’s room after tucking Sora in, even if just to sleep without a need for kisses or intimacy.

It didn’t stop Natsume’s recurring visions to have someone to share a bed with, sure, but it did a hell of a good job helping him fall back asleep faster--which he needed a lot these days.

\--

Another week later, a letter has already been sent to Valkyrie Castle and remains unanswered.

Things are more or less the same now that the fall season has run half of its course; normal, if a little cold during daytime but much cozier at night; especially now that he’s occasionally held to sleep. Besides that and the fact that Natsume has done quite a good job of hiding most of his visions and reactions from his bedmate, his tiredness is beginning to get a lot harder to cover up and explain, as his ability to stay awake for mundane activities and alone-time has been affected even more.

Though easily distracted, Tsumugi isn’t stupid. Natsume knows as much, and years of training for the librarian to be observant and sneaky aren’t much help either, not even with Natsume’s good perception helping him avoid his worry-- if he is to say something that could explain his attitude and avoid any conflict, he needed to say it soon.

So it is that Natsume has actually found himself thinking long and hard of Sora’s suggestion from the other day-- the one to try and contact someone other than Shu for advice. He has no real idea how to try other than with the doves, but with the one he has access to already occupied, the time to get creative has arrived:

One night after he’s certain Tsumugi has drifted off--thank the gods for his heavy sleep and a touch of magic for good measure--, Natsume makes way for a place of total privacy; the beach outside the hut. It’s so chilly out in the open he needs to take a pelt outside to keep warm, and it’s thankfully comfortable enough for sitting by the hut’s wooden set of chairs overlooking the ocean. The redhead sighs once settled, his breath visible in a steamy string that vanishes as soon as he sees it.

For a long couple of minutes, Natsume is only sitting down and doing nothing but feeling utterly foolish. It’s not like he hasn’t thought of conjuring up means to message his elder brothers ever since he was a teenager left in the beach to rot, so the suggestion to try once more feels a little pointless now.

Though… thinking better on it, he’d given up a long time ago on that, figuring he was just meant to deal with his problems on his own, as the Oracle he was meant to be.

He was also much younger the first time he tried-- not to mention his intentions were far pettier, and If there’s something he’d learnt from Wataru on the little time he’d studied under his wing, it’s that magic requires a very special kind of resolve.

So if resolve is what he needs to perform the kind of magic Wataru used to enchant his pet doves into finding anyone at anytime, resolve is what he would muster right now in order to find the help he needed to understand his visions, his eyes now tightly closed in concentration:

For a long time, nothing happens. Natsume remains resilient, though, doing everything in his power to ignore the feeling of helplessness that silence has given him for as long as he can remember--so instead of that, he tries thinking of things that are clearer and stronger than that-- his neverending admiration for Wataru, his affection and gratitude for Shu, his wonder for Kanata, even his hope for Rei--

“ _Hm_...?”

Natsume feels himself gasp at the faint sound of a voice, his eyes still closed. He has to focus hard not to let his surprise outweigh the connection he has barely established.

“ _Niisan-??_ ” He says out-loud, quietly and hopefully. He has no idea who he has reached, but anything at all will do right now.

“ _Oh…_ ” The voice replies, a little clearer--but somehow only to him, as if someone was putting their own thoughts in his mind. After a few moments, the voice comes back as steady as if the person talked right next to Natsume.

“ _How strange, it’s been so long since I last heard a someone talking in my head like this..._ ”

The softness and lull of the tone is unmistakable. Natsume allows himself a small smile--surprised, but not unhappy with this result.

“Kanata-niisan,” He says, fondly. “It has been so _long_.”

“ _Mm_?” Kanata hums, and makes a small sound of wonder. _“Oh, if it isn’t Natsume~! What a grown-up voice you have now…The sailors must think you a siren, hm?”_

“More like a _witch_.” Natsume retorts, with a grin. “Just as I like it.”

 _“That suits you better, yes… Or even better yet, a sea witch who curses bad fishermen, isn’t that scary~? Bubble, bubble..."_ He goes, clearly lost in his own little world. _“Are you still in that pretty beach of yours?”_

“Where else would I be?”

 _“Hm, right...I’m so jealous~! How I wish I could be near the ocean right now…”_ Kanata sighs, dreamy, and then seems to get an idea. _“Ah, wouldn’t you like trading places with me?”_

“Where are you right now?”

" _It's all_   _green, green, all around._ ” Kanata replies, unhelpfully. “S _peaking of green...Midori’s looking at me funny just now, I thought he was asleep as well...? I don’t think he hears voices, but it’s alright, I can tell him what you’re saying... Wave wave,  why don't you come say hi-- Ah, he’s gone back to camp...maybe he’s being shy again. He’s such a shy kid, this one…”_   

Midori...thinking of it, Natsume had heard the name before, in passing.

“One of your traveling partners?” He asks, to which he hears a little sound of agreement.

_“Mhm, the green of nature..and now that you mention it, I just recalled that a new member has recently joined! The yellow of hope, also a good and sweet kid…and so very sneaky, sneaky~”_

“That’s very nice, niisan, but I need to _talk._ ”

 _“Oh, you also have a new friend, right?”_ Kanata says, seemingly ignoring Natsume’s more serious tone. _“A fishy told me there’s three in your home now...how nice~”_

A fishy by the name of Wataru, most likely. Natsume’s frown can probably be heard in his voice-- he should’ve known that the magician wouldn’t resist the chance to gossip. Shu was certainly too above something like that.

“That is not the matter at _hand._ ” Natsume says, rubbing his temples. “My head is starting to hurt, so _please_ ….”

 _“Do you like your new friend?_ ” Kanata continues, _“Is he keeping you warm at night? The beach gets cold by sundown…”_

“ _Niisan_ ,” Natsume insists, now red. “ _Please_ focus. Besides, how would either you or Wataru-niisan even know--”

A beat. Natsume can feel his face heat up as he realizes what he’s just said, and feels extremely glad to know Kanata can’t actually see him.

“...You didn’t know, _right_.” Natsume says in confirmation, rather than asking.

Kanata’s bubbly laughter is enough of a reply, but he still speaks up.

“ _Some people crack easier than a seashell, hm~?”_

“ _Gods_ ,” Natsume huffs, embarrassed, “No comment. Can we _please_ talk now?”

“ _There, there, don’t be mad...what do you need, Natsume?”_ Kanata asks.

“Just...a second opinion.” Natsume tells him, already more at ease with the fact that he was starting to cooperate at all. “My power is being troublesome once more.”

Natsume can practically hear Kanata nod along.

“ _The visions, right?_ ”

“ _Right_ . I have a bit of an unwanted bond with the lost king right now... for the past month or so, and I need it to stop--or at least to _understand_ it.”

_“Ah...the little lion, I remember him.”_

“How would you know-- _nevermind_ ,” Natsume stops himself before asking, aware that his time runs out and sidetracking Kanata once more would get him nowhere. “Is there anything you could tell me about these _visions?_ Anything at all will help.”

Kanata hums for a long moment.

_“Well….”_

“ _Yes?_ ” Natsume prompts, urgently. Kanata hums again, as if having an incredibly hard time putting his thoughts together.

_“Well...If they keep coming back, it must be for a reason…maybe there’s something you’re not doing…”_

It’s an incredibly vague guess, but something about it rings right to Natsume. He muses over Kanata’s words, already interested.

“What do you mean?”

_“Usually dreams go away as soon as you have them, right?”_

“Right…”

Kanata hums once more, as if taking his own words in.

_“So they’re like waves leaving the shore...but something’s not letting them wash away now, and they’re drowning you…”_

“Mm. That is...exactly what I feel like right _now._ ” Natsume nods along, frowning. “What would you do, niisan?”

 _“I don’t drown,_ ” Kanata says, plain and simple. _“I just ride the waves along...I let them lead me wherever they want to be.”_

“But what if you _could_?”

_“Oh, I’d do the same~ ride along, why resist the water? It pulls along anyway…”_

There isn’t a lot that comes to Natsume’s mind with just that, but that could also have a lot to do with the pounding headache he’s starting to get from just keeping the conversation going. He isn’t that sure if this is enough to start with, but something tells him it’s the best Kanata can offer--and honestly, any other of his elders.

_“Na~tsu~me~?”_

The sound of his name snaps Natsume away from his thoughts. He shakes his head, pulling himself together.

“Sorry, still here--does your head hurt too, _niisan_?”

_“Mm, just a little..it’s been a long, long time since I talked to anyone like this… ”_

Despite his words, Kanata sounds just as serene as when he first picked up. Wataru may be whimsical, but nobody was as mysterious as the soft-spoken and friendly guardian. Natsume smiles to himself before sighing.

“I apologize...when I get the hang of this ability, we will be able to have long and painless conversations. _All_ of us.”

_“Oh, ‘all’?”_

The specification makes Natsume frown.

“Well...the _four_ of us. You know what I _mean._ ”

 _“I do…”_ Kanata stops for a moment, and when he speaks up, Natsume can imagine his gentle smile. _“But if everything goes right...one day it will be ‘all’ of us.”_

“...Right.” Natsume says, unable to bring himself to smile back. “Sorry for bothering you so late, niisan, and thank you for your words.”

_“No, no~ it’s nice to talk to you, Natsume… we should enjoy the ocean water and ride along the waves together if we see each other soon, okay?”_

A promise as silly in the middle of war would probably insult many, but Natsume can’t help but be a little cheered up by it, as it could only come out of Kanata. He allows himself a chuckle before wrapping the chat up.

“Understood. Please take care, it is very dangerous out _there_.”

_“It’ll be fine... I’m a hero now, remember? The blue of mystery~”_

“Right… I will try to reach out _soon_.”

_“Bubble, bubble~!”_

Natsume opens his eyes to find himself exactly as he was when he came out to the chairs--except now he has a headache and perhaps even less of an idea on what to do now.

\---

A while later, Natsume is back to his room feeling surprisingly good about himself as he sits up in bed; even if Kanata hadn’t given him much of a clue on how to handle his current situation, the fact that he’d managed to contact him at all had been a huge event on itself--now that he was certain he could tap into this shared connection with his elders, there was little he couldn’t do.

That said, there still is a lot to figure out. He still has no idea how he’s going to handle the migraine that was sure to follow for the next couple of days, along with his dreams and the details of his new ability.

Last but not least, the most pesky issue of them all.

“Natsume-kun...?”

Natsume looks down to find a groggy Tsumugi curled up on his side and a single eye open, peeking up, which musn’t help all that much between his poor eyesight and the darkness of the room. Feeling the tiniest bit endeared, though troubled, Natsume reaches to poke his forehead.  

“...Go back to sleep, _you_.”

Though a bit of a scold, Natsume talks in such a gentle whisper it’s hard to take it as such. Tsumugi allows himself a little chuckle and a yawn as he closes his eye, but continues speaking, almost muffled by the blankets beneath him.

“You too...what are you doing up this late?”

“... _Thinking._ ” Natsume says, half-lying. “I shall sleep _soon_.”

“Please do…” Tsumugi mumbles, already half-asleep again. “You keep looking tired in the morning.”

“It is of no consequence.” Natsume assures, scooting down to move a misplaced pillow under Tsumugi’s head. “You on the other hand, will get even _wrinklier_ if you don’t get proper rest.”

Tsumugi chuckles again, softly.

“What’s a few wrinkles against a world of scars…”

That makes Natsume frown. He’d gotten familiar with the outlines of Tsumugi’s face and his usually covered-up body during the past month, so of course he knew about those scars Tsumugi talked about, the ones gained over the years-- so much that he already hates them, not for how they look but for what they represent. He settles on his side to keep the banter up as Tsumugi slowly drifts once more to sleep.

“I cannot do anything about _those_ ,” Natsume tells him, mindlessly reaching to touch Tsumugi’s mangled curls. “But if I can avoid adding other ugly things like wrinkles, I’m _pleased_.”

“Mm...” Tsumugi goes, smiling slightly at the feeling of Natsume’s fingers on his hair. “ _You_ are the one getting wrinkles lately, though...and eyebags.”

“I can handle _that_.”

“You’re just really kind, admit it.”

Natsume opens his mouth to throw an insult, but it’s thrown so effectively by the sudden compliment he can’t help but stay quiet, his cheeks tinted but his fingers still entangled in Tsumugi’s hair. Tsumugi just hums happily at this, to which Natsume urges himself to talk, if only for the sake of not being rendered speechless once more.

“...Shut up.”

Another small and quiet not-quite insult, and Tsumugi chuckles.

“And it doesn’t even matter that you get eyebags because you still look so pretty.”

God. Giving Tsumugi free reign of his thoughts and actions was definitely a double-edged sword--on one hand, it’s a relief to be able to talk without a filter, but on the other, the librarian is so shameless and sentimental Natsume can’t help but feel embarrassed. And guilty, given recent events and thoughts.

“...Natsume-kun?”

The soft sound of his name makes Natsume’s hand go from Tsumugi’s hair to his cheek.

“...I will not compliment you back, if that’s what you’re trying.” Natsume tells him, quiet.

“No, of course not...” Tsumugi grins once more, sleepy. “I just thought you didn’t hear me.”

“I _always_ do.” Natsume says, rubbing his thumb over Tsumugi’s chin and cheek. “You keep babbling on even though you’re half-dreaming. I couldn’t avoid it even if I _wanted_.”

“Mhm,” Tsumugi continues, leaning to the touch, relaxed. “I could stop talking if that’s what you wanted, so should I?”  

“...Not _really_.”

“Why?”

 _Because I love you_ , Natsume thinks. Instead of replying, though, he thumbs over Tsumugi’s lower lip, thoughtful.

 _Maybe there’s something you’re not doing,_ Kanata had said earlier. At the time, nothing really came to mind, but it seems a little evident now that there’s a single thing before him:

Natsume isn’t giving the dreams the importance he should. As soon as they’re gone, he can only think of when they come back or why they happen instead of what actually happens in them...and most importantly, he isn’t being honest. At least, not to Tsumugi.

“Natsume-kun…”

The redhead only hums in reply, tiredness kicking in with guilt. Tsumugi opens his eyes just the slightest, his expression concerned.

“You’re the one spacing out now...are you sure everything’s fine?”

No. He’s never been this worried--would Tsumugi remain this warm, thoughtful and sweet if he knew the king was out there? How many days back to confinement in the basement could that equal to?

But instead of saying any of that, Natsume simply shakes his head.

“I just... need _rest_.”

Tsumugi doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but he nods.

“Understood...Then we should probably stop chatting for now, okay?”

“Okay,” Natsume agrees, almost too quickly.

Despite Tsumugi seeming suspicious of Natsume’s attitude, he still reaches for Natsume’s cheeks to bring him down to kiss him--nothing too deep, but not a peck either. Just a goodnight kiss that the oracle pretty much melts into, despite his guilt. After a moment, Tsumugi turns to his side to sleep.

Suffice to say, Natsume doesn’t actually get rest for the night.

Again.


	17. Sky

Childbirth was a blessing to most.

Unfortunately, the Nomads of the Sun weren’t reacting to it like most; at least not to this particular child:

Sora Harukawa was born, appropriately enough, one summer day of unforgettable heat under a clear blue sky. It was noteworthy to say that that wasn’t his name at the time, though. Some of the people that lived close to his family claimed that his coming into the living world was the reason the clouds were gone that particular morning, while others rumored that he came out of the womb overcooked and cursed by the deities of the sun. Suffice to say, everyone in the community had a different theory regarding the baby as they got to know him, but what they all could unanimously agree with was that the boy was very strange since he was an infant.

For starters, though Sora cried as much as any other newborn, he seemed selective as to who he’d cry with. While certain people could hold him alright, others were subjected to loud and penetrating wailing as soon as they were in his presence, which only turned worse if they dared to touch him, as if the unthinking and undeveloped child could already sense the bad of their very souls. That made it hard not only for people to sleep at night, but for his mother to barely get help in raising such a loud and difficult child.

Many didn’t lose their patience just yet, though, as they thought that Sora’s behaviour would straighten and that he’d grow out of the ominousness by the time he’d be able to think for himself, but things only got worse as the years went by. A conscious Sora would not only flinch in the company of most adults, but he’d speak words nobody would dare to without any sense of tact, respect or mindfulness:

 _“Why are you lying right now?”_ He’d ask.

 _“That’s not how you actually feel, is it?”_ He’d question.

Worst of it was that he wasn’t selective with his accusations. Both children his age and adults came to meet his unflinching eyes, and most hated it or were deeply unsettled by it. Even his family wasn’t spared of such feelings.

Under such circumstances, it was no wonder he was so lonely up until his fifth year of life; the time the nomad had chosen the beachside of the Old Lands as their residence.

\--

“Mama, mama!”

A blonde woman continued a conversation to another lady her age, too engrossed in the chat to really hear her child over that and the midday waves of the ocean. The boy shouting pouted up at them, and as soon as he realized he wasn’t being seen either, he urgently clung to his mother's skirt as he continued trying to get her attention.

_“Mamaaaaa!”_

The insistent and louder wailing seemed to get to her. The woman sighed and quickly apologized to her friend before she looked down at her child, not bothering to hide her irritated expression.

“What is it, now?” She asked, the question devoid of any motherly kindness.

“The wall, mama!” The boy shouted, releasing her to point towards the horizon. “I just realized it reaches the sea and everyone wants to fish right next to it!”

The woman sighed once more, and her friend looked like she shared the same annoyed sentiment as her, seeming very uncomfortable with the boy’s words. They exchanged a look before the mother looked down, not at all amused with her boy's behavior.

“There is no wall. How many times have we gone over this?”

“Many, but I promise it’s right over there! It’s thin and bright, but it’s so huge...” The boy insisted, looking over the beach while gesturing. “Maybe the fish swimming near it might be bad or--”

“You are the only one seeing this wall.” The woman sternly said, not bothering to look at him by that point. “You already embarrassed yourself and our family plenty in front of our elders, so stop insisting. We’re staying here for the season, we're fishing and hunting as we've always done, and that is final.”

“But it’s there!”

“Stop it with your delusions, already!” The woman exploded, her fists tight by her sides--a tone that made the boy step backwards on instinct. “I already said it was final, so quit making me repeat myself and go help the men like I told you to!”

Nobody said anything for a long and uncomfortable moment.

The woman only ended up glaring at the child, and later turned back to her friend, her piece already said and done with. The boy knew there was still much more he could argument and that his intentions were only to keep his kin safe, but he reluctantly looked down, defeated once more by the authority and angry energy of the adults that surrounded him.

Taking the deafening silence as a clue that his protests would go unheard, the child meekly walked away from the women who went back to a more hushed conversation, his big blue eyes cast to the sand and his feet dragging around the sticks and shells he saw on the way to the shore.

Despite loving the sun and the outdoors, it was an understatement to say that, so far, the boy did _not_ like his current home. While the beach was ideal for someone who found so much fun in exploring and sightseeing by himself, something about this particular land seemed ominous and already inhabited, but the only clue he had to go by was the bright but somehow transparent wall he’d found surrounding the area.

A Wall that, unfortunately enough, was in the long list of things only he could see.

He kicked at a rock, frustrated with his faulty eyes and self. Were he not able to see any of it, he wouldn’t have so many problems. The community would probably like him alright if he wasn’t like this, but he’d realized it too late; nobody would ever believe him if he started pretending not being able to feel and see his surroundings as clearly as he does at this point, as he wasn’t even very good at acting. And now he was stuck with a stupid invisible wall that probably didn’t even hold--

A person.

The boy stopped on his tracks, his eyes wide.

For a moment, he just stared ahead and rubbed his eyes to make sure this wasn’t just another _delusion,_ as his mother called his sightings. But for as long as he stared, nothing changed; it only became clearer, in fact, that someone in the distance was sitting down in the sand overlooking the ocean.

The one thing he could tell for sure was that he had never seen someone so unlike himself or any of his people before: the person’s thin and pale skin was the first giveaway that they either didn’t come from the beach-side or that they were somehow unaffected by the strong sun. The next detail was the elegant robes wrapped around their body, but the most noticeable, strongest aspect about this person from far away was their blood-red hair, unevenly cut and adorned by wispy white strands that didn’t seem to be there for age at all.

There was something entrancing about this person, like they were part of the royalty he sometimes heard about from the few stories and rumors of the people of the other side of the ocean. Such tales should’ve probably made him wary of the seemingly greedy and war-happy foreigners, but to be so close to one was a different story; especially if this person willingly sat at the center of the area the wall protected--were they even aware of it?

There was only one way to find out.

 

\--

 

“It took you _months_ to understand each other?”

Tsumugi’s question hangs in the air accompanied by Sora’s cheery snickering and Natsume’s embarrassed silence. Despite it being a very old experienced the pair just retold, it seems like Natsume never quite got over the shame of not knowing how to handle the situation he was met with at the time.

The three of them share hut mugs of chocolate around the fire of the living room, Sora’s head resting in Natsume’s lap as they sit on the pillow and pelt-covered floor in front of the lit hearth. Tsumugi sits at a chair next to them, sewing supplies out as he fixes an old tunic of Sora’s and listens intently to the story the child had promised but hadn’t been able to tell him just yet.

“It was so funny, Sir!” Sora starts back when he finishes laughing, joyful to retell this particular part of his story. “Master looked so horrified someone could see him at all, and then when Sora tried introducing himself, Master’s face and colors turned the most confused Sora’s ever seen him!”

“Sora was speaking in local tongues and I was _supposed_ to be unseen by all.” Natsume speaks up to defend himself, looking to the side. “How _else_ would I look like?”

The question only made Sora laugh harder, and Tsumugi couldn’t help but smile as well before questioning the boy further.

“It _is_ funny to imagine, but I have to agree with Natsume-kun here...weren’t you scared that he couldn’t understand you at all, Sora-kun? How did you handle that?”

“Well…” Sora hums for a moment, remembering.”Sora couldn’t get the words Master was saying when he finally spoke back, sure, but Sora could understand everything he meant thanks to his colors--so Sora was never scared cuz Sora knew from the start that Master was very kind, even though he pretended to be bothered by Sora for a long while!”

That makes Tsumugi smile warmly.

“Is that so?” He asks, discreetly keeping an eye out for Natsume’s expressions. So far, it remains embarrassed.

“Yes!” Sora replies, excited, but then subdued as he keeps the story going. “And anyway...Sora didn’t become Master’s apprentice right away, but Sora knew from the start that he wanted to get to know Master better...we both needed a friend at the time.”

Relatable. Tsumugi nods along politely, and Natsume’s features relax as he takes over, knowing the following events were a little more difficult on Sora’s side.

“Plus, there were the Nomads to deal with. Though it was no secret they had a _distaste_ for the unknown, they were still a very tightly-knit and stubborn community that wouldn’t listen to his findings.”

The librarian nods again, tense with the unbelievable thought that Sora of all people had faced such rejection. He faces the boy with worry and interest, at once.

“Then...how did you end up living with Natsume-kun, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Sora doesn’t seem to, as he smiles before replying with something quite unexpected.

“That’s thanks to Sora’s sister.”

Tsumugi only blinks for a moment.

“You have a sister?”

Though this should probably be a hard subject to talk about, what with severed ties to his blood, Sora only seems slightly less chipper than usual as he relays the details. It’s obviously been long enough for him not to mind so much at this point, but Tsumugi can’t imagine being able to be so casual about it. The boy nods once along, smiling.

“Yup, a baby sister! Sora has no idea what kind of person she is today or what she even looks like, but...she was on the way around the time Sora met Master. And when Sora found out, he realized she would either be like Sora and keep him company, or she could be the normal child Sora’s family always wanted.”

 _Normal._ The particular word is spoken so casually it hides any negativity to it, but the way Sora uses it implies sadder things that Tsumugi and Natsume both understand too well. Maybe that’s the reason Natsume decides to cut in once more, familiar with the story and seeming very determined on letting Sora deal with only a bit of the burden of it.

“She was as non-magical as they came, yes.” He says, very pointedly avoiding to also describe her as ‘normal’. “I never met her either, but shortly after she was born, Sora confronted his family to let them know she could help everyone start over--including himself, and advised them to properly take care of her as they left for their new _home_. He then came over to the hut inside the barrier and never left.”

Natsume’s being surprisingly subtle in his helping, but of course, Sora notices. He smiles warmly at his Master, and then at Tsumugi, to wrap things up.

“Sora’s sister needed to grow happy from the start, since she was what Sora’s family needed all along...and she wouldn’t be able to if she had, well. Sora for a brother.” He says, for the first time his tone and words dipping the slightest. “Sora thinks he did right in staying with Master, even if Master could only understand it all long after Sora made his choice.”

There’s silence for a moment, as Tsumugi takes in the rest of the story and sets aside his needle for a bit, lost in thought. All in all, he’d already figured most of Sora’s origins with the passing comments both Natsume and the boy himself had made, but the holes that Sora had filled in with his own personal feelings and the specifics of how he was treated by his own people made everything so much heavier. It is suddenly crystal-clear why so much time and ease was needed for the memories to be brought up again, and understanding it all the way he does makes the librarian feel nothing but admiration for the child.

“Sir?” Sora calls, blinking up at Tsumugi. It takes him another moment to really respond, and when he does, he’s up from his chair and sitting besides him and Natsume, smiling down as if he looked at his own son.

“You are incredible,” He simply says, “You know that, right?”

Though the compliment isn’t directed at him, Natsume can’t help a smile. Sora, on the other hand, looks like he’s found the northern stars in Tsumugi’s words, his expression surprised beyond words.

“Wha-?” He goes, for once, surprised. Tsumugi just smiles wider before nodding.

“Just what I said...you’re a wonderful person, Sora-kun, and that’s all there is to it.”

The child sits up to fully look at Tsumugi, as if checking his colors for confirmation. When he seems to really understand how much the librarian means his words, Sora’s eyes practically shine with delight--and even a little pours out, happy little tears forming. Natsume notices all too well but remains silent, only touching his apprentice’s head for comfort as he stares with warmth.

 “Sora’s...so grateful.” The boy says, smiling despite his fuller, watery eyes. “Sora’s so glad Sora is Sora now.”

The words make no sense for a bit, but Tsumugi needs only a moment to piece them together based on the story he had told; one of the very first things he had clarified when he started telling it.

“So your name…”

The boy nods along, knowing exactly what he meant.

“Master gave it to Sora right as we started understanding each other...cuz when Sora said he wanted to start over, he meant it. So Sora asked Master to pick a name out for him, and the rest was history.”

Tsumugi only has his own guesses to go by, but with that clarification, things suddenly make a lot more sense than ever:

A name that perfectly matched eyes as wide and blue as the clear summer sky.

A strange speech that always put such an emphasis in names...Sora this, Sora that--It really wasn’t that Sora didn’t know how to speak properly or that his native dialect didn’t translate well to learning, then.

He just savored his new self and those around him with every word and every action.

As if the child couldn’t make Tsumugi feel more fortunate and trusted, he beats himself yet again.

The librarian exchanges a look with Natsume, as if silently asking for permission before taking the weepy boy in his arms and wrapping him in the tightest embrace he thinks he’s ever given anyone.

\--

One would think that such an emotional night would probably mean that Natsume gets to rest properly, but it seemed the ream really had it against him.

It’s the middle of the night and the Oracle suddenly sits up with a gasp, sharp and messy enough for Tsumugi to hear despite his deep sleep.

“Natsume-kun,” He goes, half-whispering as he scrambles to sit as well, uncaring of his total blindness without glasses and the jolting of his heart. He quickly places a hand on Natsume’s back for support as the redhead catches his breath, leaning over to talk to him. “Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?”

“Y-Yeah-” Natsume wheezes, mentally cursing the fact that he couldn’t wake up quietly or carefully this time around. To his surprise, he even starts coughing a little, causing Tsumugi to gasp as well to scoot closer, panic picking up in his expression and body language.

“Wait, are you sure you’re alright? do you need me to get you some water?”

“ _No_ ,” Natsume urges on impulse, shaking his head. “that’s the _last_ thing I need right now.”

“Huh?”

Ugh. Good going, Natsume. The sudden words are going to warrant an actual explanation, just as he’d been avoiding the past weeks.

“I dreamed...of the _ocean_.” Natsume says, closing his eyes tightly both to calm down and to avoid Tsumugi’s worried eyes. The librarian tilts his head, confused to hear of something so familiar.

“Just the ocean?”

“Well...I was in a boat.” Natsume continues, reluctant to share with Tsumugi but seriously, as if he himself is just processing what had happened in what he realizes is his first dream unrelated to forests or camps. His eyes widen with confusion as he realizes what it really was.

“I think...it was a _memory_ , actually.”

“What?”

“Yes of--long ago, around the time of Sora’s story,” He continues, not looking at Tsumugi to chase an old train of thought. “When I was first brought to this beach...I was traveling with Wataru-niisan and a knight, and the storms were so insistent that it made the whole structure shake and clash against the ocean. It constantly splashed water all over myself, soaking me to the bone…. I can still taste the _salt--_ so no, no water for me right now _._ ”

Tsumugi scrunches his nose; thankfully, he doesn’t seem to doubt Natsume’s words, as he seems more like he’s recalling his own bad experiences at the open sea.

“I can see why you’re so distressed, then…I also got to deal with my own share of bad weather on the way here. Storms were pretty bad even by late spring, I can’t imagine how that’d be with winter approaching... You probably felt like you were drowning, right?”

“Right...I’m fine, _though_.” Natsume quickly assures, turning to give him a face that tries for neutrality but can’t quite shake sudden nerves. “I mean it. It was just a very vivid _dream_ of a memory.” He adds, nevertheless.

Unfortunately, Tsumugi doesn’t seem to buy his words now. It used to come a lot more easy, but so many nights in so little time with the same excuses and reassurances would get old for anyone. The librarian hums, his hand making mindless little circles all over Natsume’s upper back, which, though unnecessary at this point, are definitely well-meaning and nice enough for the Oracle not to complain.

“A dream, huh...you’ve had tons of those for some time now. I thought I heard you Sora-kun call it visions at first though, is that resolved by now?”

A beat.

Truth be told, it would be easy to say no; that he dreamed he was king Leo often enough for it to be expected, and though he was paying attention to everything he could now, no new hints seemed to appear before him. But he sighs, unhappy yet willing to lie to Tsumugi’s face to keep him safe now that he’s finally by his side.

“Some are visions...but not this _one_. It didn’t make all that much _sense_ , honestly.”

“Then how are you so sure?”

“I just am,” Natsume insists, leaning on Tsumugi’s shoulder on impulse to calm him down--a move that seems to work right away, as he can clearly already feel him relax against him. “So go back to _sleep_.”

“Hmm...” Tsumugi goes, protesting but leaning his head on Natsume’s, nevertheless. “What about you? Will you be able to after that nightmare?”

“I can _try_.”

“You’re always trying, lately…”

“I will just...try _harder._ ” Natsume repeats, closing his eyes. “Plese, let us _rest._ ”

Tsumugi says nothing for one scary moment. Natsume considers feigning irritation at this in order to get him to react, desperate to hear anything out of him, but he’s thankfully interrupted by the feeling of Tsumugi’s chest rising and lowering with a deep and soft sigh.

“...Alright, let’s try again, then.” He says, lowly. Natsume nods against him, guilty but relieved he has managed to buy himself some more time to figure things out.

As they settle back down to sleep and he lays down on his side, Natsume expects to be given a very well-deserved cold shoulder until the next morning, but to his surprise, he feels Tsumugi’s forehead nestle in the crook of his neck and his arms around the small of his waist, holding him as close and warm as if things were okay.

Or rather...as if Tsumugi silently pleaded him to help him let things be okay again.

Butterflies never felt quite so heavy or remorseful; especially as he thought more and more about the sudden memory that came back to him.

\--

****

A restless while later, Natsume still revises what he saw exactly that night but neglected to tell Tsumugi:

While it was the same boat ride and Leo was there, as it had happened, Wataru was nowhere to be found. The boat felt smaller and unsafe, and something about the journey felt a lot more dangerous and remorseful than when he first had left Rei’s castle; while feelings of bitterness and dejection had followed Natsume the whole way back in the past, the feelings of the dream matched a lot more with worry and a struggling determination to get himself to land in one piece, things that were nowhere near his mind at the time.

There’s something he wasn’t seeing. Something he wasn’t doing.

And then he finally realizes it, when he thinks back of the sky from the dream and the one he remembered: one clear and sunny and the other moonlit with only the stars to help the voyage:

It wasn’t that he was having a memory, but another vision-- and this time he was Suo instead of the king, taking the role of the scared passenger pretending not to be feeling as such.

His blood runs ice-cold and he instinctively curls up tighter to Tsumugi’s hands when he realizes that the reason he was so sure this was a memory was because the boat was taking the exact same destination Leo was told to navigate to so many years ago.

The Old Lands.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who missed it/wish to re-read it, here's the April's Fools badfic one-shot from last update that got deleted:  
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-pBWdozRRER0yHZCVtGpWxxYL9PojHI7MMYmhZYMdWY/edit?usp=sharing
> 
> Thanks to everyone for all the patience and support for this story!! There's still a good bit to go but i'd say we're about a little more than halfway done. I'll be seeing all of you next update <3


	18. Realization

_Dearest Natsume,_

_First and foremost, I offer you my deepest apologies for my tardy reply. Despite my best efforts to quickly get word back to you, this is the soonest I could manage to work up the time to properly look into your queries, as castle Valkyrie has been undergoing poor maintenance without me being there to supervise it as often as I’d like to._

_That said, though I do not wholly approve of you having access to matters of the Capital’s conflicts and much less confidential archives pertaining the current (alleged) King, I have come to the conclusion that it is the least I can do for you given your distance to any real sources of danger, physical or otherwise. I will, however, gravely and directly ask your discretion regarding this exchange, as it is a stretch for me to be even remotely involved in this particular case, let alone have any reasons to want the information for it. Consider this a proper compensation and favor for your cooperation in your previous relocations and overall status as the Oracle and Fifth Guardian of the Realm._

_Without any further ado, I shall properly introduce you to the contents of my correspondence; Attached to this letter is a handwritten copy of the report that you requested, complete with the case summary, names of the involved individuals, date and time of the incident-- they call it the ‘Witch Hunt’. The archive goes deep into details entailing the identities, capture and treatment of individuals that were incarcerated or executed shortly after what happened, but I only included a list of names, as most descriptions went into unnecessarily gruesome detail. (You’re welcome.) I have also made sure to scribble sketches and drafts to resemble those in the original parchments to ensure that the document is as complete and perfect as possible, so I am certain that you will find your copy to be as useful as the real deal._

_It is with that that I must leave you, as any more information would probably be overwhelming to the mere academic purposes you claim to have. It is of great importance that I must remind you a final time to be extremely careful with the content of these letters, as I barely had the chance to retrieve these documents from the deputy king without being questioned too much about it. I am not sure if I understand or want to know why you want to look into this, but I will put my entire trust  in you to use the information wisely._

_In hopes that you remain in good health and that we might come face to face sooner than later, I bid you a good day._

_-Lord Shu Itsuki of Valkyrie Castle, first of his name and Guardian of the Northern Mountains._

_PS: Wataru has informed me of the developments in your current sentimental situation. Words cannot express my disapproval towards your choice in partners, but we will properly and extensively discuss that when we see eye to eye._

 

After getting slightly infuriated and embarrassed at the very last sentence in the letter, Natsume takes a moment to really register the contents of it. Shu’s words definitely feel reluctant at best, but they still were the same as he could always expect of him; all he asked for and more.

Typical Niisan.

The morning sun peaks into the room as Natsume carefully arranges all the other pieces of paper that had been so neatly folded on Tsumugi’s dove’s talon. The bird rests near the window, deeply asleep after a long journey home and being properly fed.   

The Oracle allows himself a little smile at the hardworking animal and then the highlights of Shu’s words; it feels good for his status to finally be useful, but most importantly, it’s great to be trusted. He lets out a breath as he pulls the first page of the letter on the kitchen table and is left with the pieces of parchment pertaining what he really looked for. Shu’s impeccable and almost indecipherable handwriting titles the archives in his hand as ‘ _The Witch Hunt Files_ ’ in inky, big and ornate letters above tiny rows upon rows of information.  

After letting himself gulp, Natsume wastes no time skimming over the report to go over what he’s really interested in. His eyes focus over names, specifically, and he feels his heart beat faster when he comes across exactly the one he was looking for in the very first passages describing the overall events of Tsumugi Aoba’s worst and last crime:

‘ _\--yet after successfully fooling and avoiding all outer castle guards by unknown means, the attempter on the King’s life was foiled by none other than a single knight, Tsukasa Suo.’_

That line alone is all he needed to confirm his suspicions about the identity of the knight of his dreams, but now things made even less sense than before:

Why was it that Leo was trying so hard to get to the Old Lands with just a single knight?

And moreso, what business could he possibly have bringing along the one person that almost got killed in his stead?

Natsume makes a mental note to read the full report later to speculate further, as the sound of steps coming towards the kitchen make him swiftly place his hands over the letters and his thoughts scramble with nerves. In comes a bed-headed and yawning Tsumugi, his timing as terrible as ever.

“Ah--Natsume-kun,” He says, groggy, “good morning...”

“Good morning.” Natsume quickly calls back, fixing his posture. “It’s a little early for you to be _up_.”

“I know, right?” Tsumugi says, and laughs droopily. “I could say the same for you, though...you were just gone and I couldn’t help feeling a bit worried.”

“Where would I _go?_ ”

The librarian shrugs with a chuckle, and Natsume rolls his eyes out of habit.

“...You seem in a good _mood.”_

“Oh,” Tsumugi says, oblivious to his own grin, “Do I really?”

When Natsume nods, he can only chuckle again, albeit quieter.

 “I mean...it’s hard not to be, after that nice get together from last night.”

“ _Get-together?”_

“You know, the one with Sora-kun?” Tsumugi clarifies, blinking in awe at Natsume’s confusion. “We talked about his past...and yours, sort of.”

Natsume raises his eyebrows, surprised that Tsumugi is either ignoring the previous night’s deal with the vision or choosing not to focus on it altogether. He nods, though, feeling relieved even if guilty.

 “Ah...right. I was surprised to be included as well in _that.”_

 “Yeah, me too.” Tsumugi replies, looking up to recall. “He’d told me he’d tell me all about it, but for him to actually take the time to dig in so deep...I feel really fortunate.”

 “You should.” Natsume agrees, without thinking. “He’s one in a million, that one… the only reason he knows the Common tongue is so I could better understand him, but he will never actually need to learn much from anybody besides _me_. I believe he’s meant to be out there teaching others by the time he’s grown.”

“He’s already grown.” Tsumugi says, confidently. He laughs. “Or...emotionally, at least.I think I’ve learnt more from him in the past seasons than in my entire childhood at my hometown’s apothecary.”

“...Mm.”

The one-note agreement seems to make Tsumugi finally become a little more conscious of the air between him and Natsume. His expression drops only the slightest as he sits next to the redhead, his face soft with concern.

“So...where’s Sora-kun right now, anyways?”

 “In the _woods.”_ Natsume tells him. “He insisted he wanted to play and collect wood and wildberries by himself a bit ago… it’s part of the reason I didn’t really bother with a big breakfast. ”

“Eh--he doesn’t need us to get back, does he?”

“He can navigate the forest even _better_ than I, so I wouldn’t worry.” The Oracle assures, confident. “Nature is like his personal courtyard and playground.”

 “Ah...I see.” Tsumugi laughs a little. “I can’t say I blame him for wanting to be away from the two old men for a bit.”

 “Mm.”

Any other day, being lumped in with Tsumugi in the ‘old man’ description would’ve warranted at least a foot stomp from Natsume, but the Oracle has little to no time nor energy for that. Tsumugi notices as much, and his quiet and awkward laugh subdues. He clears his throat before his tone and expression turn a little more serious.

“...Did you manage to fall back asleep last night?”

...Ah, so he does remember.

That makes Natsume look down, the slightest bit ashamed.

“Yes.” He simply says, half-lying. It was only a few hours, but it was better than nothing. Tsumugi simply nods, unable to help but notice the scattered letters on the table for the split moment he glances down.

“I see you got correspondence.”

Though Natsume’s heart beats faster, he somehow manages not to make it show and nods as well.

“Right...from Shu-niisan.”

“It looks like he had quite a bit to say,” Tsumugi remarks, fully looking down. “Is everything alright?”

That question pricks into Natsume’s head and chest like a needle, as it has been so common as of late; or some variation of it: _Are you okay? Do you need something? Is everything alright?_

 ...That’s how every conversation with Tsumugi has been lately, huh?

And it’s not like he can even blame him for asking so much. It’s nobody’s fault but Natsume’s.

Feeling tired and even guiltier with all the back-and-forth, Natsume sighs deeply. It starts downing on him that no matter how well-mannered and respectful Tsumugi is willing to be with his privacy and giving him his time to actually speak the truth, nothing is ever going to help him feel less heavy and tense.

“...Natsume-kun?”

The way Tsumugi speaks his name, tentative and worried and for once out of bed, is what convinces Natsume to at least start letting him into his worries. He looks up slowly.

“...Things aren’t all that _well,_ actually.” He finally confesses, quietly. “You probably noticed by now, right?”

For a moment Tsumugi says nothing, as if assessing the reality of what Natsume has actually confided. When he seems to realize Natsume had actually come clean about how he really feels, he notably becomes less tense, and his smile bashful to match.

“...Yeah.” He affirms. “It doesn’t take a genius...sorry if I pestered you too much about it.”

 “No, I--” Natsume starts, also ashamed to have been found out, “It couldn’t be helped at this point. My head’s been full these days--of dreams, visions, theories and memories...the lines between each are starting to become so _blurry._ I don’t know how to hide it or what to do about it anymore.”

There should be a lot more unease and vulnerability to Natsume’s words, but the relief he feels after such a long time shouldering his worries alone outweighs everything else. There’s still a slight sense of dread with Tsumugi’s unpredictable reactions, but he feels a little more prepared to deal with anything now. The librarian simply listens along, his expression one of polite silence. When Natsume finishes explaining, he gives him a worried glance.

 “I had a feeling it had to do with visions, yeah...did you not tell me because you knew there was nothing I could do about it?”

“ _Partly_ ,” Natsume admits, much to his own surprise. “I just… don’t know what to do either, that’s the matter at hand. Were I able to decipher my visions, I could deal with it on my own, but...I’m not sure what I’m looking at. I don’t want to risk telling you about something that may _disturb_ you for nothing.”

Tsumugi blinks at him.

“Disturb me?”

Such a detail might be the dealbreaker. Natsume hesitates before he wills himself to place his hand over Tsumugi’s, serious golden eyes locking into a confused olive stare. His grip is tense over Tsumugi’s calloused and rough hand.

 “...I need you to trust me to figure this out properly before I actually tell you. Do you trust me?”

Tsumugi doesn’t even seem to think about it before he answers, fingers easily interlacing with Natsume’s.

“With my life.”

And once again, those heavy and guilty butterflies that fly all over Natsume’s stomach return, fluttering all over him with such a shameless and thoughtless reply. Something about the way Tsumugi says something so important so casually does _things_ to him. He wills himself not to get caught on it, though, only squeezing Tsumugi’s hand slightly in acknowledgement.

“If that’s the case, then...don’t ask about it for now. Let me make sure I know what all of this is before I can let you in on it.”

It takes a moment, but Tsumugi sighs and nods.

“Understood…”

Obviously, being helpless isn’t very characteristic or expected of someone whose livelihood came from getting things done for others. Natsume understands as much, and though he’s gained more time and actual leivity to think of his current situation, Tsumugi is the same--if not worse than before. Not only does he think something important has happened, now he knows it, and worse, he knows he’s not allowed to do a thing about it.

In a way, Natsume understands that feeling. Has lived with it, practically, and it’s not a nice thing to deal with.

Such is the reason he takes his hand from Tsumugi’s and uses it to cup his cheek instead.

“Eh?”

Before Tsumugi can say another thing, Natsume has both hands on his face, greedy fingers curled to grip at his skin the slightest. Suddenly, he’s everything the librarian can see in front of him.

 “U-Um...”

The stuttered little attempt of a word dies as soon as it comes out, and Natsume knows exactly why; they’re never like this in the daylight, so exposed to each other’s eyes and without covers to hide under. Up this close, they can both gather just how red and warm the tints of their cheeks are, but Natsume doesn’t show it in his voice or his expression, now bold and suggestive. Unwilling to let Tsumugi say anything about it, he easily leans in to press his lips to the librarian’s in a short little smack, breathing deeply through his nose as he does it. He does it another time, and another, and another. Then he finds himself tilting his head to open his mouth a little, and that’s when he can sort of feel Tsumugi gasp against him--not unwanting, but clearly surprised.

“Wait,” Tsumugi breathes, hushed and just the slightest bit alarmed. “Isn’t Sora-kun going to see?”

“He went outside very shortly ago.” Natsume assures, though just as whispery, without pulling away. “He’s usually gone for _hours_ , so it’s alright.”  

It’s not in his style to be so eager to be close, and much less in the middle of the kitchen, but… words are the only other way he could use to express his gratitude, and he sure as hell isn't ready to mess things up with something as unreliable and difficult as that. Tsumugi has already agreed to his terms, and he wasn’t going to take his chances with any verbal thanks or explanations. His kisses and his touch would have to convey his reward better.

For a moment he feels a little nervous Tsumugi might call him out for being so flimsy and shameless, but on closer inspection, he’s clearly thinking the same; though his eyes flash confusion and his mouth twitches with unsaid words and hesitation, he doesn’t even make an effort to talk back or go around this. Instead, he holds back from speaking at all and is, surprisingly, the one to take initiative now, closing his eyes and cutting the minimal distance between his mouth and Natsume’s. The sudden kiss catches the redhead so off-guard he’s the one who half-gasps into it now, but doesn’t let his surprise linger, arms swiftly wrapping around Tsumugi’s neck.

As they kiss, it takes Tsumugi a moment to notice that Natsume has actually gotten up from his chair. Still sitting, Tsumugi’s arms wrap around Natsume’s waist, small and even delicate on his unfittingly strong grip. They forget themselves and the stress they’re under for the better part of a moment, mindless and spellbound by the warmth and dampness of their mouths. Tsumugi even finds it in him to gently push Natsume down to his lap in consideration of his neck straining, and the Oracle wordlessly and easily agreeing to his new position.

Slowly, Natsume is lowered right where he can feel the warmth of the light entering the room and sees the little specks of dust surround him and his doe-eyed librarian. It should be easy now that they’re face to face and on daylight to speak, but he still can’t find the words to tell him just how much he cherishes their current closeness, though a work in progress, or even how grateful he is not to be questioned. Instead, he stares, and leans forward to nibble softly on Tsumugi’s lower lip, fighting back a satisfied smirk when he feels him tremble in reaction and tightens the hold; not only around his waist, but his back as well, in a pressing yet comfortable embrace.

Corny as it is to measure something like it, It’s the warmest and safest Natsume has actually felt in a long time.

 ... _Oh, my. My, my, my._

The Oracle’s eyes snap open at the hauntingly familiar voice that reaches his ears so swiftly, and he pulls back so roughly and suddenly he nearly draws blood from Tsumugi’s lip.

 “Ow!” The librarian yelps, but then just stares at Natsume as soon as he registers his startled expression.

“...Natsume-kun?” Tsumugi asks, in a whisper. “Are you okay?”

“I-” Natsume breathes out, eyes wide as plates. “Did you hear _that_?”

“Um… hear what?”

_Can you hear me, my darling? Can you do so yet? I do hope I’m not interrupting anything._

Natsume gets off Tsumugi’s lap in a heartbeat and steps back, suddenly so fearful he finds no time to put up his usual pensive face.

 “There’s no way you didn’t hear that--that _voice_ ,” He explains, looking up as he seems to look for the source of it, “it was so clear. Are you _sure?_ ”

“Positive?” Tsumugi replies, not sounding positive at all. He gets up as well to put both hands on Natsume’s shoulders, trying hard to be reassuring. “Hey, can you please tell me what just happened?”

_Wherever you are, know that you’re never alone._

Long ago, those would’ve been reassuring words. Right now, though, the sweet and low voice leaves nothing but chills down Natsume’s back.

For a moment, the Oracle doesn’t reply neither to Tsumugi or the one in his head. He uses the silence to focus on his own, trying to leave room for the taunting to keep going, ready to pay attention to try and find any visible sources. When he thinks it’s gone for good, he sighs, both relieved and disappointed to feel like he’s not going to hear it again for now.

“Natsume-kun, please...” Tsumugi pleads, quieter. He finally catches Natsume’s attention with that.

“I heard...a familiar _voice._ I think it was just my head.” He says, hesitantly. “ _Niisan’s_.”

The concern in Tsumugi’s expresion is replaced with embarrassment. His cheeks go beet red.

“Oh, no.” He goes, clearly ashamed. “Oh, God. Lord Itsuki’s? Did you tell him that we--?”

“No!” Natsume interrupts, seriously; he’s also red, but it’s clear it’s for different reasons. “No, I’d never-- but it wasn’t even _him._ ”

“Lord Hibiki’s...?” Tsumugi tries, mously.

“ _Worse.”_  Natsume declares, looking and feeling grim, unable to look away from Tsumugi. “I hadn’t heard it in...a very, very long _time.”_

Lord Shinkai doesn’t sound that bad, but something tells Tsumugi he wouldn't be cause for such an uproar. He nervously looks around as he fully takes in the seriousness of the situation, still trying hard to keep his hold on Natsume’s shoulders strong.

 “...What was his name again?” He meekly asks, “The one you don’t talk about so much…”

The mention of his existence is usually enough to upset Natsume, and while this time it is no different, he can’t react the same way he does. Not when his negative feelings don’t come from childish resentment or mourning, but an actual fear and bewilderment like he hadn’t felt before.

“Lord Rei Sakuma.” Natsume mutters. “You and most people may know him as the _Demon King_.”

The title is enough. Tsumugi’s eyes widen in alarm, not only confirming his knowledge, but adding more into the already overwhelming confusion in his head.

“Hold on...your last elder brother was him?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, but I thought-”

“Decapitated by Leo Tsukinaga. _I know_.”  Natsume cuts in, roughly and not in the mood to go into details regarding that, “I may not have been there for that, but I knew it the moment it happened. I felt it, and though he is meant to live again, it shouldn’t be in the time he died in. He should be a newborn.”

“Then how can you hear--?”

“ _I don’t know_ ,” Natsume interrupts once more, annoyed at what feels like the start of a terrible headache. “That’s why I’m so lost right now! I’m certain it was his voice just now, the one I always knew, and there’s nothing anybody can say to convince me otherwise.”

Though Natsume is ready to be brushed off or reminded of his sleepless nights, Tsumugi doesn’t say anything. At most, he seems to consider it, but no words leave his mouth for a few uncertain moments. The librarian simply retreats back to his chair, attempting to piece together what Natsume has told him.

“But if you heard his grown voice...does it mean his spirit is talking to you through your powers?” He offers, frowning to think. “Can the dead reach you?”

“I doubt it, I’m no _necromancer_.” Natsume tells him, already calming down at the chance to reason together, but still pacing to keep his jittering down. “But what I do have is an _unbreakable_ bond to my niisan, one that goes far beyond mere words.”

“So it could go beyond death too?”

Though that makes as much sense as being able to talk to any of his elders as long as Natsume focuses hard enough on it, something doesn’t add up. In the split of a moment the Oracle heard Rei’s voice, he didn’t only hear the low tone he had grown so used to for the better part of his teen years; he could also feel that spark of wrongness within Rei that had grown in his stay at the dreaded castle of the capital. One that should’ve died the moment the Lord had been executed.

So if that hadn’t died...  

“...He never really _died_.” Natsume declares after a moment, in a whisper full of dread.

“Huh?”

“Or at least not _properly,_ because that wretched wicked escence still dwells within him.” Natsume continues, almost oblivious to poor Tsumugi being left behind in the conversation, most of his helpless questions drowned out in the background of Natsume’s reasoning.

“What do you mean properly-? There’s… no way you can survive having your head chopped off, right?”

“Not if you’re a _regular_ human being.” Natsume clarifies, his mind and heartbeat racing. “My niisan and I, though...there is more to us all than meets the eye. Rei-niisan must’ve reformed and used all the time between his beheading and this very day to rest properly, play from the shadows and regroup.”

“But what does all of this mean for you, then?” Tsumugi asks, almost fearful. “Will you be removed from the shore if he knows where you are?”

The possibility makes Natsume grimace, however small it is. He frowns.

“No, fuck _that._ ” He says, “This may be the smallest home I’ve had yet, but it is mine and I am not leaving it for anybody’s whims but my own anymore.”

For the first time in a long while, Tsumugi manages a little grin. It’s probably got to do with the sudden vulgarity that is so out of place for someone with Natsume’s otherworldly looks and speech.

“That’s good…” Tsumugi says, gladly. Maybe he’d already started stressing over what would happen to him and Sora if Natsume were to be relocated once more. Either way, he’s not quite as relaxed, as there is still a lingering tension in the air. “I still have to wonder if you’re safe, though.”

Natsume considers it for a moment, and hums.

“...I think I am, since I am of no use to him anymore.” He decides, with a very slight sadness,  “Rei-niisan used to be so possessive because I foresaw his _execution_. He kept me close at all times so he could double-check his every action to avoid such a fate.”

“Oh,” Tsumugi goes, squinting. “That never goes so well in old fables, does it? I see it’s the same in real life...”

The irony of it all only pulls a shrug out of the Oracle.

 “I mean, he still lives, so…”

Another sigh. Just as one worry was lifted from Natsume’s shoulders, a new one comes in. Tsumugi can only look at him with pity, his mouth a tight line. The librarian turns his way, extending a hand for comfort. Surprisingly enough, Natsume actually takes it right away, the sudden emotions still too raw for him to put on his usual distant and proud facade. Tsumugi smiles hopefully at him, though the worry and uncertainty is clear in his eyes.

“Whatever happens, Sora-kun and I will be there for you. I’ll know only what you want me to, and do anything you need me to do to keep you safe.”

His words, sincere and sweet as always, reach into Natsume’s chest to grip and squeeze his insides with the gentlest of grips. The Oracle can feel himself frown, but in disbelief. How can he say such things after only being allowed so little? And if he knew of Leo approaching and when he inevitably got there, would Tsumugi still be this confident about sticking around for his sake?

His fingers close around Tsumugi’s at the scariest passing thoughts.

“You’re not my knight nor my assassin.” He reminds him, quietly. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Though he should know as much by now, Tsumugi’s eyes widen in disbelief for a moment, as if thinking to himself-- _oh, right_. Afterwards, his smile turns a lot more serene, uncertainty slowly melting away. He chuckles.

“You’re right...you told me to only do what I wanted, yes. But this is what I want.”

“Mm,” Natsume goes, not acknowledging nor ignoring such a statement. He glances away for a moment, almost bashful. “I don’t know. Aren’t you just saying what I _wish_ to hear?”

“No,” Tsumugi promises, his grip on Natsume’s hand as insistent as it is gentle. “It’s true that I’ve said it before...that things that I don’t want are the things I’ve done, and maybe it’s something I’ll continue doing out of habit, but...not this time.”

Natsume glances back, almost hopefully.

“Not this time?”

“Not at all.”

...Ah, he still can’t trust that.

How sad is it, even after Tsumugi’s gallant words from earlier?

Truth be told, Tsumugi is about the worst person in the world at being reassuring when it comes to his own feelings. After a lifelong history of saying only what his masters wanted to hear, there’s no way for Natsume to shake off the feeling that even his prettiest words are coating over darker and drowned out feelings, but… if anything, he appreciates the intention. Tsumugi will probably never stop seeing himself as a replacement knight or an assassin, but he at least tried somewhat hard not to make it show. That much is always noticed, and a main reason Natsume finds it in him to actually smile the slightest, if only for a moment.

“I see, then.” He says, though he doesn’t completely. There should be a lot more to say, but Tsumugi seems content enough getting half-recognized, as always. Now that the tension between them is sort of gone, it would probably be a good moment to go back to how things were going before Rei’s voice came between them, but that would mean either taking initiative once more or mentioning it was happening at all. Therefore, Natsume only lets go of Tsumugi’s hand to take a few steps back, eager to protect the remains of his image.

“I think I’ll go with Sora after all.” He declares, curtly. “At least to help him out with the berries.”

“...Oh, right.” Tsumugi goes. There’s noticeable hesitance in his tone, but he stands up, nevertheless. “I’ll clean around the house on the meantime, so take all the time you need.”

With a nod and a somewhat awkward step, Natsume makes way out of the kitchen and into the main door. Tsumugi waves to see him off, his stare and his hand lingering as he watches the Oracle disappear behind the door. Now that he’s finally alone, he can properly think about and process everything that had happened between them just that morning; but first things first, he’ll do good on his promise and clean up.

And what better place to start than the table full of Natsume’s forgotten and scattered papers?

... _Very_ scattered and wordy papers, apparently.

 

...

 

Why is his name all over the correspondence?


	19. Rewind (Final Part)

The best part about becoming an assassin by far was that Tsumugi didn’t really have time to think about heartache.

Well...at least not more than the usual passing feeling of pining or the sudden pinches of guilt; especially when he had to interact so much with little Leo Tsukinaga every time he visited. He was already used to all of that, though. In a way, he already lived with heartache and guilt long enough not to notice them unless things were particularly bad.

What actually occupied Tsumugi’s mind most of the time was his training for the newest part of his job; the murderous one. He’d been pulled from Eichi’s side many times by the expensive snake-faced and silver-haired mercenaries hired to teach him the ropes of weaponry and stealth; though he was slow, clumsy and extremely infuriating to work with at the beginning of the process, he slowly learnt of passages around the kingdom he had no idea existed, how to hide himself in a moment’s notice to blend into the background, how to make himself unheard, and most horribly, how to get away with a successful and cool-headed murder after crying his eyes out on the first few drunks, animals and pickpockets he was made to practice with.

Surprisingly enough, despite slowly losing any repulsion for blood and having already a first-hand experience with a knife as his first time, Tsumugi’s favored method of killing ended up being poison, always hidden into either a meal or gift. It probably should’ve been no wonder that he’d go with a mean as quiet and unimpressive as himself, but he wasn’t ever looking to show off. He only ever needed to get messy if he had to deal with a victim’s guard or if they put up a fight or refused his subtler, sneakier attempts--which was, thankfully, not often.

Nevertheless, It was safe to say that all of that had changed Tsumugi over the years. He didn’t make any noise whenever he walked (therefore, startling other servants on a daily basis), he was physically stronger and far smarter than ever, and while those all accounted for good traits he came to use every now and then attending his regular duties, the ways they were _really_ put into use were less than moral.

Still, none of it mattered. Morality seemed like a fair price for Eichi’s satisfaction and praise, and it wasn’t like he went on rampages every day, anyway. Tsumugi’s services as a regular servant continued as they always did, but once every blue moon, he’d discreetly be asked to dispose of someone so carefully chosen it was never cause for an uproar.

Everything was perfect, and everything was how it was meant to be.  

 --

“Fufu...”

Tsumugi pretended not to recognize the deviousness in the chuckle as he presented a silver tray before his guest, his eyes very purposefully focusing only on the teacups and cutlery he masterfully handled by then. When his companion said nothing else, the servant sighed lightly, knowing he wasn’t allowed to skirt around interacting with him.

“So, your highness...” Tsumugi said, to clear the air. “Will it be three sugars as usual?”

Prince Hiyori Tomoe sat on the very same chair Tsumugi’s very first victim used on his final moments, his expression so knowing and playful one could think that he wasn’t only aware of that fact, but that he found some sort of sickening fascination with it. A cabbage-colored lock of hair twisted around his finger in an almost flirty sort of fashion as hummed pleasantly at Tsumugi’s question.  

“My, how attentive. Yes, that’ll be three; thank you for noticing.” He said, his voice as always a little too friendly. “The house of Tenshoin brings up the best service as always, does it not?”

Alas, his conversation was also as frivolous and unflattering as always. Tsumugi only nodded and smiled politely, by now painlessly used to that.

“I just do what I can, your highness.”

“And you do well! Such a good boy.” Hiyori smiled easily, his expressions and mannerisms noticeably similar to what he used to address his pets--like the small dog that slept on his lap at the moment. As soon as Tsumugi was done sweetening his tea, the prince reached forward with a greedy smile. Though the servant knew there was no way he’d just sit quietly to enjoy his drink, he couldn’t help but find himself wishing as much. 

“So,” Hiyori began, nearly as soon as he took his first sip, “How’s Eichi-kun, hm?”

….There was no way he didn’t know already.

Tsumugi figured he was mostly trying to see how he’d answer personally, and though the prince’s intentions were merely curious, he couldn’t help but feel a little undignified on Eichi’s behalf.

“Busy, mostly.” He replied, keeping his cool despite his more emotional answers in mind. “Like today...once more, I apologize on his behalf. Had he known you were visiting, I’m sure he would’ve done everything in his power to make some time for you.”

Hiyori chuckled at that.

“No, I’m the one at fault for dropping in unannounced. I just figured he’d be able to chat if he was still bedridden and feeling as bad as I heard.”

Ugh. Of course he knew all about Eichi’s recent dips in health. Tsumugi still found the grace to keep smiling at him though, as he bowed his head.

“It’s very gracious of you to think of my lord’s health enough to come visit. ”

“Not at all. What are friends for, am I right?”

“You are, your highness.”

More like “political allies”, but it’s not like Hiyori cared much for formalities. The carefree prince chuckled at his own modest answer, a hand free for his cup of tea and the other for petting his lapdog. He looked over at Tsumugi with a devious glance.

“And how have _you_ been doing, Aoba-kun?” He asked, smiling pleasantly, “Still keeping up the hard work, right?”

“Of course.”

Hiyori smirked, his features somehow still relaxed and composed into something graceful despite the subtle bite to his following words:

“Do send my greetings to my darling next time you see him, huh?”

It took everything for Tsumugi not to flinch.

The first time Hiyori even implied he knew of the servant’s deeds outside stewardly duties, Tsumugi almost disposed of him with the nearest lethal object he could find at the moment--a butterknife. The prince, however, was clever and calm enough to let him know on time he only knew because one of Tsumugi’s mentors happened to be his lover, and everything his love knew, he knew as well. Hiyori called it an exchange of secrets at the time; everything he and his silver-haired sellsword whispered at each other never really left closed walls because of the scandalous nature of their own relationship, anyways, and it wasn’t like he had anything to gain with the information other than amusement, as Eichi’s rise in power and choice in victims only benefited the Tomoe family as well. Eichi was, of course, repulsed by the green-haired prince having such information to use against him, but it wasn’t like he could do much about it but vent to Tsumugi in private, in many of the rare occasions the servant would ever see him riled up.

Now, despite knowing Hiyori knew, every time he brought it up so casually gave Tsumugi the instant impulse to want to shush or pretend to hide it from him. It was hard to fight back, and it seemed Hiyori always caught and loved every second of his discomfort.

“I haven’t...seen him in a long time.” Tsumugi finally said, unconsciously quieter. Hiyori only laughed again, delighted to always get a reaction out of him, no matter how subdued.

“Aw, is that so? You must be very good now if you don’t need him around anymore, right?”

Ugh, ugh, ugh.

“I just don’t need supervision anymore, is all…” Tsumugi muttered, looking sideways. “I don’t really chat about anything personal with Ran-san or Saegusa-kun when it comes to work anyway, so I doubt I could pass on the greetings even if I wanted.”

Implying he absolutely didn’t want to, and Hiyori was quick to catch on.

“Fine, fine, I understand...” The prince nodded, and then sighed. “It sounds so dull when you explain it like that...ah, but no offense to you or my love, of course.”

“None taken, your highness.”

“Aha, you’re always so polite! No wonder you’re Eichi-kun’s favorite.”

...If only that was the case.

Tsumugi could only stare down at the empty tray, his older, tired and perfectly prim reflection looking back at him. Of course, he’s unable to come up on the spot with a good answer to such a lie. Hiyori didn’t seem to mind, though, his playful glance fixed on him regardless of his silence. After a moment, the prince spoke up once more.

“Say, say…” He started, oddly quieter. “Since he isn’t around and we have some time to ourselves, wouldn’t you like to hear something interesting?”

Ah. That was certainly a trap, if Tsumugi’s ever seen one.  

“I’m not one for gossip, your highness.” He told the prince, unshaken, to which Hiyori gave out a hearty laugh.

“Aw, such a stiff answer!” Hiyori exclaimed, but then hummed. “But if you put it that way, I guess it’s not appropriate to just idly chat...how about I ask you to confirm something for me, then?”

Definitely a trap, but it wasn’t like Tsumugi could deny a direct request from Hiyori just from a hunch or discomfort. He looked up and nodded, undeniably curious as to what the prince could want from him.

“If it’s within my grasp, I can try.”

Delighted with the answer, Hiyori took a moment to grin before propping his chin on his hand, his elbow ungracefully up the table.

“Then tell me, Aoba-kun...is it true Eichi-kun’s lover hasn’t been around for more than a month now…?”

If not for all the times he’d been hit from being too transparent, Tsumugi’s eyes would have gone wide. The surprise from Hiyori’s question only let his mouth twitch, though, undeniable and off-putting enough to be noticed. He shouldn’t know this. He shouldn’t even suspect it, right?

Of course, the second he thought he couldn’t be surprised by anything, something as scandalous as Hiyori’s terrifying grip on information came along.

“Well?” The prince prompted, stroking his own cheek playfully.

“...That’s not something that concerns me.” Tsumugi finally replied, careful with his words. Hiyori chuckled at them, unbothered.

“Come on, Aoba-kun. Surely you’ve noticed?” He asked, pretty violet eyes fixed on Tsumugi’s firm yet emotional glance. “It’s a simple yes or no, dear. Or you could just tell me when was the last time you served hot chocolate to the two of them? ”     

Even Leo’s drink of choice was right.

For one tense moment, Tsumugi went over the prince’s possible intentions; either Hiyori already knew everything he was asking and just wanted to use him and his feelings as a plaything, or he threw random accusations into the air to pry actual information out of him.

The options to deal with either weren’t at all favorable to Tsumugi. If Hiyori already knew, it was a problem he’d have to quickly choose how to dispose of. If Hiyori was just prying, though, he was obligated to reply in some way or another to keep other information safe. Either way was troublesome to Eichi’s interests, and the servant’s eyes flew to the cutlery in the tray in one desperate moment.

A spoon caught his eye, its silver shine glistening against the sunlight that came in through the window.

Maybe if he was accurate enough where to use it--

“Your highness.”

Thankfully, that was a third voice coming into the room along with the sound of a door opening, interrupting what was to be a messy and gruesome idea if Tsumugi panicked. Both Tsumugi and Hiyori looked up to the guest room entrance to find a confidant of Eichi’s; his jade eyes imposing and serious even behind bookishly round glasses.

“Ah, Keito-kun!” Hiyori exclaimed, lifting his hand to wave. “Hello there! Care to join us for tea?”

“Didn’t you have business in town?” The young man asked, easily ignoring Hiyori’s invitation. “I was on my way out and couldn’t help but notice that your mother was expecting you in the courtyard some time ago.”

Keito Hasumi, the one person in the world with the status to freely stand next to Eichi as much as he did and never look out of place in the process. As Eichi’s oldest childhood friend and ally within nobility, Tsumugi was very much acquaintanced with him and felt nothing but relief at his appearance-- if there was someone who wouldn’t allow mind games and manage to avoid Hiyori’s advances without any consequence, it was him.

The prince could only pout at such a blunt accusation, his cheeks red to have his own mother used against him.

“I wasn’t even done with my tea yet… so rude.”

“Not as rude as bringing over pets after being told not to.” Keito retorted, indifferent to Hiyori’s complaint. He cocked his head towards the open door, arms crossed. “Your steward is out the door and lady Tomoe is downstairs, so if you’d please, I’m sure you’re keeping Aoba from his actual duties. ” 

“Fine, fine.” Hiyori quickly agreed, mostly to get Keito to stop talking. As soon as he got up, Tsumugi tried to; but the prince stopped him with a hand, quickly passing by with a wink.

“Oh,” Tsumugi blinked up, confused. “Don’t you want me to walk you back to your mother, your highness?”

“You have actual duties to attend to, remember?” Hiyori replied, his voice mocking of Keito’s tone and smiling knowingly. He showed Tsumugi his half-asleep dog. “Besides, that’s what Jun-kun’s for. You’d just end up carrying my little one, and I quite enjoy seeing her in his arms, you see?”

“Ah...I see,” Tsumugi said, though he really didn’t-- was that the only reason he wanted the pet everywhere he went? He bowed, nevertheless. “I hope your next appointments go well, your highness.”

“They will. Thank _you_ for your hospitality, Aoba-kun.”

More like his playtime.

“My pleasure.”

And just as the prince walked past Tsumugi, he didn’t waste any time to whisper in passing, his sweet words somehow sending a nastier chill down his spine than anything he could get from his latest times removing a target:

“I do sincerely hope things get better for that little love triangle you’ve found yourself into.”

 

\--

 

“...Any new correspondence today?”

It was very tempting to lie to Eichi’s face in order to bring him some much-needed good news, but even if Tsumugi was any good at making things up on the spot, there was nothing he could do to follow through.

Right after Hiyori’s visit, Keito had made a valiant effort to get Tsumugi to not think about him or any words he might’ve said to rile him up when they were alone, but it was all for nothing. Once the prince’s seeds were planted, they’d grown nonstop; all resulting in Tsumugi becoming hyper-aware of everything surrounding Eichi and Leo’s frequency in meetings, and overall noticing not only how the last time he’d seen Leo Tsukinaga sneak into any Tenshouin property had been too long ago, but how he’d stopped right before the heir had grown significantly sicker than usual.  

It was with a heavy heart that he bowed his head towards his lord, who was now akin a pale porcelain doll; all rolled up in his blankets and showing his servant his back, like a pouty child who hid from facing anything distasteful. Tsumugi sighed before he spoke up with a heavy and weary whisper.

“....I’m sorry, Eichi-kun. It’s the same as usual.”

“Ah,” Eichi went, all too quickly. “I see, then. Thank you again, Tsumugi.”

Nothing felt more vile to the servant than being thanked for breaking his lord’s heart. His knuckles hardened at the thought that he’d have to do this again next week, and more so that he’d have to stomach catching Eichi staring at the windows all the following days in search and hopes for the messenger ravens from the Capital.

Just as he turned on his heel to leave the room, Eichi spoke up.

“Do you think I’m not trying hard enough?”

The vulnerability laced all over the question managed to stop and turn Tsumugi around far better than any command. A wide-eyed Tsumugi blinked at the Eichi-shaped lump of blankets that called out to him.

“....Sorry?”

“I mean…” Eichi started, and sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe my letters aren’t as sincere as I thought.”

“I doubt it.” Tsumugi said, firm and as confident as he could get in the midst of his surprise. “You are very verbose in your letter-making, and your penmanship is wonderful.”

“That’s not the same thing as being _sincere_ , though.” The heir called, finally sitting up to reveal his pale and hurt expression as the blankets fell over his shoulders. Tsumugi’s heart sank for the split moment he caught Eichi’s eyes so devoid of life.

“....Perhaps that’s the entire problem, actually.” Eichi continued, unable to keep to himself still despite showing a very pitiful side of himself to his servant. It was clear he was far beyond self-consciousness when it came to Tsumugi. The servant listened intently as Eichi went on, his voice soft and uncharacteristically full of melancholy.

“Maybe I’m too flowery in my wording and that’s hard to reply to in the midst of training and battle and everything they have the kingsguard do. It could be too much stress to add on to his busy lifestyle, don’t you think?”

Not at all.

Truth be told, if Tsumugi had been lucky enough to be regularly sought out by a lover like Eichi Tenshouin, he would’ve been grateful for even a signed napkin--let alone a letter. It would’ve been his one priority to return every single letter as soon as possible, no matter how hard his day had been. Eichi definitely had it worse in dealing not only with his personal responsibilities, but his sickly constitution and daily exhaustion. It wasn’t fair to say Leo was too busy for anything.

But at the end of the day, that’s not Tsumugi receiving the letters and he never would be, so all he could do was encourage and help as he could.

“Well...saying a little can sometimes mean a lot if worded correctly, yes.” Tsumugi said, a small and hopeful smile somehow finding a way to his face. “Your next reply could have that approach.”

“ _If_ I get to reply at all.” Eichi said, pessimistic. The heir sighed as soon as the words went out, clearly frustrated with the situation. “Besides, it’s not like I know how to write any differently. It’s no wonder he’s gotten so bored of me.”

Though the implication was rather dramatic and probably untrue, Tsumugi couldn’t help but take it to heart, his chest burning with helplessness and even misplaced resentment towards the red-headed knight. Nothing was on his mind harder than finding a way--any way at all, to put a smile and some hope back to his beloved lord’s expression. Such was the reason he spoke up, uncaring of the hint of desperation that slipped into his words:

“I want to help.”

“Huh?”

‘Want’ was certainly a stretch, but Tsumugi didn’t care about that. Anything was okay as long as he could put an end to Eichi’s misery, as was every important decision he made.

“The old man who taught me how to read and write back in my hometown had a very basic principle, so I don’t know how to adorn words.” Tsumugi explained, his expression determined. “I can help you write something more heartfelt.”

Eichi didn’t say anything for a moment, almost as if he understood the kind of emotional toll this would take on Tsumugi. Selfishly, Tsumugi sort of wished this was the case, but it seemed not to be when the heir nodded and asked for his confirmation.

“Would that be alright, Tsumugi?”

It wouldn’t.

“Yes, of course...” Tsumugi said regardless, gently. “It would be my pleasure.”

His smile was small but so convincing he nearly tricked himself; it wouldn’t be a pleasure at all to pretend every word he was going to say wasn’t going to be out of his own longing for Eichi, but the sentiment to help was as real as it could get; and for Eichi it looked like that was just enough. The blonde returned that small smile.

“Then...I’ll be in your care. I’ll be sure to show you next time I write.”

“Please do so, Eichi-kun.”

Such a pleasant and easy disposition made Eichi’s smile widen the slightest, and the soft sound of his chuckle that came right after was enough to make Tsumugi already glad he made such a painful choice.

“You’re always pulling me out of these pits, Tsumugi. How do you manage?”

“I-I just… do my best, is all.” Tsumugi replies, his cheeks warm at such pleasant praise. “Your happiness is my own.”

For a split second, he was worried that those words were too much. Eichi, however, only hummed at them, his smile still fresh and wide.

“Is it now?” He asked, and then replied himself with another chuckle. “That’s so sweet... You’re like my little bluebird of happiness, that way.”

Tsumugi’s heart skipped several beats at that, unsure he’d heard correctly.

“Huh?”

“Yeah...it’s not too much, is it?” Eichi asked him, his eyes gentle. “My bluebird of happiness, always making sure I’m alright.”

To say Tsumugi’s heart swelled was an understatement. A warmth shook inside his chest, instantaneous but lingering in its afterglow, making him even more glad he decided to ignore his own discomfort once more.

“Bluebird”. It was no “Little knight”, but it was something. It was his and his alone, and that was everything that mattered.

The servant bowed, smiling at his most sincere yet.

“I’m glad I can be that for you-- I’ll wear that name with pride and do my best to meet its expectations.”

And so he did, but…

 

\---

 

It wasn’t enough.

The bluebird of happiness had a hard time living up to his title.

As if proof-reading letters that weren’t directed at him and suggesting ways to word passion and love to the very object of his affection wasn’t already like pulling teeth, Tsumugi’s pain wasn’t even rewarded with success. No matter how honestly Eichi’s feelings were worded, they proved either much too difficult to reply to, or something was seriously wrong with the carrier animals. It was tempting to have a servant be tasked with personally making sure Leo got the letter, but with the secrecy of the relationship, Tsumugi being needed at all times for any emergencies and already having a suspicion that Hiyori was aware of it, anything other than discresy was far too risky.

In retrospect, it was no wonder things escalated the way they did.

 

\--

 

“...Let me guess,” Eichi started, quietly and motionless. “Nothing again?”

Truth be told, his serenity was far more terrifying than any tantrum.

Tsumugi felt his chest tighten in a second, no matter how much he’d been preparing for a bad reaction ever since he saw no letters of importance in the birdhouses. He carefully closed Eichi’s bedroom door behind him and gulped before shaking his head.

“...Ah.”

Though the heir was already dressed and properly seated at the edge of his already-made bed, he looked far worse than when he pouted and hid from the problem, the hopelessness in his posture and expression so crystal-clear he didn’t bother hiding it anymore. Tsumugi felt awful, unknowing what kind of offer could help him out this time around, and honestly sort of wishing he’d be scolded or dispatched instead of being given such a short answer-anything but this blank, lifeless stare would be better. To Tsumugi’s horror, Eichi spoke up, his voice tepid and grave.

“Do you know what I’ve been hearing lately?”

It took everything for Tsumugi not to stammer.

“...What would that be?”

“That he’s never alone nowadays.” Eichi said, looking down. “I hear he’s the Demon King’s favorite knight and how he keeps seeking him out alone. I also hear he’s never seen without other members of the kingsguard--” He laughed hollowly, in disbelief. “I even hear he’s good friends with the Oracle that is said to be kept in the castle of Laerad... I think it’s a lady, but you can never be too sure, can you?”

Though it was a rhetorical question and it was unsure if what he questioned was the Oracle’s gender or Leo’s loyalty, Tsumugi felt like his very life was at risk if he didn’t answer or if he didn’t say anything at all to follow. He knew well that Eichi could be jealous--even possessive, when it came to his belongings, but he’d always attributed it to the greed and entitlement that was expected of rulers and leaders. To see that such feelings extended to his lover sent a chill down his spine, and though he felt intimidated, he knew he needed to say something.

“Eichi-kun, I…” He started, even though he was aware he probably shouldn’t be speaking at all and that Eichi would’ve excused him if he had the energy to do so. He sighed before continuing, “I’m so sorry. I’m sure it’s all rumors, and I really don’t know why he wouldn’t reply...”

“That makes two of us.”

“If there’s anything at all I could do, maybe--”

“No, unless you can just bring him to my side.” Eichi snapped, his thinly-veiled anger apparent in the coldness of his words. His blue eyes seemed so icy then, penetrating through Tsumugi’s nervous glance like a knife, twisting and stabbing right in.

“Could you do such a thing, Tsumugi?” Eichi continued, unprompted and getting up from bed. Despite clearly seeing Tsumugi cringe at his tone, the blonde walked forward, his movements jerky and ungraceful, moving forward as Tsumugi kept moving backwards on instinct. “Could you go to the Capital, grab him from the battlefield, put him on a horse and make him come right to my side?”

“I-I--”

Tsumugi’s back hit the door and Eichi stopped before him, his eyes alone trapping him in place.

“Or could you make him write me the perfect reply, if that’s too hard? Make him apologize for making me wait so much, for wandering off to god-knows-where and for good measure have him reassure me how much he actually loves me and that he misses me as much as I do?”

Tsumugi didn’t say anything. He didn’t even have the force to stammer, shocked that Eichi was actually _that_ heartbroken and starved for affection. If it was just Leo’s love that he wanted was a mystery to him, but regardless of the truth, Eichi was hurt and that was the one thing that mattered; even more than his anger or the compromising position he has pinned him in.

And as usual, he’d have to take matters into his own hands.

Tsumugi looked to the sides and stood very still for a moment, to hear if anyone was behind the bedroom door.

When he confirmed that they were alone, he muttered a single word, looking straight into Eichi’s eyes.

“...Tenshi.”

The nickname instantly widened the heir’s eyes.

“What did you just--”

“I know it’s not the same, but please hear me out-” Tsumugi interrupted, his eyes shut tight to avoid the angry look in his lord’s eyes. “I think--I can help you not miss him so much.”

It was already such a dirty implication even the usually unfazed Eichi seemed floored.

He backed away from Tsumugi, examining him and his words.

“...What?”

As usual, here was Tsumugi’s chance to back off and rethink his idea. It was the ugliest thing he’d be doing; almost as ugly as murder, but if it could help even a little he knew it wasn't going to be worthless. He took a shaky breath before continuing.

“I’m...no knight.” Tsumugi said, using the hard door he was pressed against as support, despite being able to move around freely now. He looked up at Eichi with shaky, emotional eyes.

“I don’t have the sunny and braided hair you love so much, the pretty freckles or the grassy eyes or the mischievous personality, but what I do have is…”

The word ‘love’ was stuck in his throat, but he gulped it down as soon as he recognized it.

“...Loyalty,” He decided, “so you don’t need to see me at all. Just your little knight, until he’s ready to come back to you.”

Usually, Eichi understood and assimilated situations quickly enough, no matter their gravity. Even the room of Tsumugi’s first murder had been treated as a mere casualty when Tsumugi had thought it the most gruesome thing he’d ever seen, but right that moment, the heir looked utterly lost.

As Tsumugi embarrassingly often did whenever he was met with a silence right after a terrible  suggestion, somewhere on the back of his mind, he hoped Eichi would think twice and come up with a different solution himself.

But as usual, Eichi only stepped forward, his hand cupping Tsumugi’s cheek. His voice came in a whisper.

“...What if he never comes back to me?”

Tsumugi’s chest tightened, but he allowed himself to close his eyes as he leaned into the touch. His stomach burned so much it was hard to tell if it was because of love or guilt anymore.

Maybe it was both.

“That’s the point.” He told Eichi, “He isn’t even obligated to do so as long as I’m here, so...you win either way, Eichi-kun. You still get the lover you want.”

It was all too much. Tsumugi’s words, his movement... this was crossing every line that was ever drawn, it broke any kind of truth that could’ve been to his strange friendship to Leo Tsukinaga, it made his kiss in the dark from more than a year back seem like child's play, and it would cost him his life if anyone were to know. Tsumugi knew it. He also knew Eichi knew.

But it still didn’t stop anybody.

In fact, it seemed to spur Eichi on, as his delicate fingers traced the lines of Tsumugi’s cheek down to the bottom of his chin; drawing and claiming him the way he must’ve done countless times for his little knight. Blue eyes glanced right at Tsumugi’s, so deep and glinting with so much danger the servant could feel himself drowning in them. Moreso when Eichi finally replied to his awful suggestion, his words quiet and final:

“...call me Tenshi, then.”

The second Tsumugi uttered the name again, guilty and quiet but with so much feeling, his lips were roughly sealed by Eichi’s.

As was his fate.

 

\--

 

One would’ve thought that having a new lover to pick up the slack for the real one finally would’ve done it for peace to return to the Tenshouin heir; especially when Leo actually came in person to visit shortly after Tsumugi had taken such a role, but as time went on...to make a long story short, things changed.

Politically, socially, but especially, personally.

First things first, a tension was palpable between Tsumugi and the knight; no matter how collected the servant had turned in what became years of disposing people for Eichi, he really couldn’t be able to hide his distaste when he had to serve Leo after long absences. Passive-aggressiveness wasn’t ideal nor his usual personality, but it was sort of inevitable after everything that had happened could be pinned on Leo, or so Tsumugi had thought at the time.

The tension between the two of them was just the start. Sadly, even in his return to form in visiting and actually talking once more to the lord, Leo and Eichi weren’t the most harmonious of couples anymore; not when duty had started calling out to the two of them more seriously than ever, resulting in so many fights ranging from political disagreements to petty jealousy on both parties that Tsumugi had lost count of the times he was asked to leave whatever room they were occupying.

And of course, with each badly-ended argument and storming off on the red-headed knight’s part, it was time for the servant to swoop in to comfort an upset Eichi with a version of his lover that, although didn’t exist anymore, was seemingly enough to soothe him in his times of need.

Suffice to say, the already shaky sentimental situation only got worse when King Rei was decapitated and the brand new King Leo arose from the demon’s dying flames:

Over the following year of useless visits and audiences between the now couple of lords, hurtful words were said and important decisions were made. It was hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t just from Tsumugi’s point of view and his experience with fights that were sometimes forgotten for the sake of social amicability, but at the end of the day, it was clear that what once was a curious, truthful and blossoming love had become something tainted, possessive and unforgiving. 

Such was the reason Tsumugi’s services never really stopped; including, and perhaps especially, his brand new role as Eichi’s play-pretend little knight.

Once more, it was only natural things got the way they did; starting with Leo’s rise in power and Eichi’s necessity to treat him as any other ruler, there was no room for romance anymore; and without that, there certainly wasn’t any intention on Eichi’s part to bow down before a lover he no longer felt so much blind affection for, no matter how sweet or brave or handsome he still found him.

So it was after countless long discussions, alliances and disposals on Tsumugi’s part that came the founding of Finheim; a land devoid of Leo’s ruling, the rise of the sick but powerful king Eichi Tenshouin, and a true mark of treason to king Tsukinaga from the Tenshouin name.

Tsumugi sort of figured that was the end of it all, but as usual, he was wrong.

—

 

' _He betrayed me’,_ Eichi had said, his knuckles tight and white from force he shouldn’t be making. 

 _‘He’s forgotten all about me’,_ he’d muttered, venom and hurt lacing his pretty whispers. ‘ _He’s already found himself another lover. And another, and another. He didn’t have enough with all he’s done.’_

Tsumugi couldn’t believe it. Despite the fact that these were just news that had made way through the gossip of knights and travelers from the capital, the anger, the heartbreak, the very apparent drift-off and everything in between, Eichi still cared. He still had enough heart left to be broken over and over again.

Had this reached the lord a long time ago, he probably wouldn’t have had such  an intense reaction. Most would probably have found the blonde monarch foolish or petty to be this ungracefully upset over a romance that was so obviously dead and buried, but Tsumugi was the one person in the world who could see the extent of it all. This wasn’t entirely at fault for Eichi’s undoing, but the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

And right as he figured it all out, Eichi looked at Tsumugi with teary and enraged eyes, and then he uttered the words that would curse him forever; never realizing that would be the beginning of the end for his servant’s time with him:

“I wish with all my heart that Leo Tsukinaga were dead.”

 

\--

It was the quickest trip Tsumugi had ever made back to the castle, and that was saying something.

For once, stealth hadn't been his priority--it was speed. Thankfully, he knew his way back so perfectly he didn't even need to think much of it; the path just seemed to be outlined for him, even in the darkness of the night and with the added damage of arrows that had managed to stab him, stray sword slashes and even a few rocks and twigs poking at him from everywhere inside his clothes. There was no time to even fix his decaying robes or rest, not when the road ahead only lead to a single person: his lord.

The assassin's mind was so clouded with making it out of Tsukinaga's territory alive that he only started worrying about his words to Eichi until he made it to the safety of an underground passage that would take him interrupted to the castle’s dungeons. He had failed what was perhaps his most important mission yet...or perhaps the only one that mattered, if his king's words were anything to go by, since Leo had hurt him so badly.

And now his failure was going to hurt him further.

He came to a halt in front of a familiar area about an hour later, and sighed. This was it. Just a few staircases and less doors ahead, and he'd be met with his fate. Tsumugi tried not to think too much, as it wasn't usually part of his job, but anxiety ate away at his very step: how could he see Eichi in the eye like this? What kind of chaos had he even left behind?

Every single question and conversation he had with himself in his time alone melted away when he found himself in the castle grounds--servants and staff were already riled up and discussing in worried, infuriated whispers over gossip about the king going berserk and demanding a certain someone. He tried his best to ignore it all until he found himself in front of the most familiar door of them all: the one leading to Eichi's chambers, past the guards and knights and everybody else. Now that he was there, all that was left was to walk in. No knocking needed at this point, as he knew it was the time and place for the blonde to be present.

After taking in one last breath, he pushed the door open, quiet as a mouse but announced by a heavy and low creaking noise.

The sight of a very familiar man facing the window and unflinching at the sound of his arrival was enough for all of Tsumugi's composure to melt, and suddenly, the hours of speech he'd prepared had dissolved into a single, choked name:

"Eichi-kun.."

There was no response for a bit.

With such silence, Tsumugi could hear an even clearer wave of whispers and servants running haphazardly around and about; confusion, tension and fear were clear even inside the safest chamber of the entire castle. Eichi finally looked over his shoulder after a moment, his expression eerily serene despite most likely already knowing what had happened.

“You look awful.” he remarked, a smile showing off his intent to tease before diminishing into nothing. “I assume you got into some trouble.”

The sight of his king's teasing smile, however short, made Tsumugi’s chest ache; it was as if they stood together during the midday and he'd accidentally spilled the tea on the floor and not--well, his entire credibility, both as an assassin and a person. He wanted so badly to see a real smile, to be held and reassured that he was safe now, but he knew deserved none of it.

Feeling utterly useless and overwhelmed, the assassin crumbled to his hands and knees, not unlike a puppet having its strings cut. He was vowing so deep his forehead touched the floor. Droplets of blood from his wounds and trash from his clothes dirtied Eichi's room, but he didn't even notice in the midst of his pathetic state of mind.

"I--I have no words, Eichi-kun--my lord--"

His voice came out choked and sorrowful, and he couldn't be asked to raise his head for the world.

"I have failed..." He said, eyes closed tight and feeling the most broken he ever had, "I have failed your wishes and your one task, and the only thing I can offer are my meaningless apologies-!"

Eichi didn’t reply right away, as if measuring Tsumugi’s hysterical claim in his head.

“...For someone with no words,” he paused, calmly stepping towards Tsumugi and scuffing the blood on the floor with the toe of his shoe. “You certainly have many apologies, don’t you?”

Tsumugi felt like crying. Eichi spoke up again.

“Raise your head.” It came as more of a demand than a request. Eichi then crouched to his calves, resting his hands on his knees. He spoke slowly. “I’d like you to be more sensical than this. What happened?”

It was probably for the best that Eichi gave an order. Tsumugi was far too beat to respond to regular kindness, so he was  better prepared to listen to a command. Slowly, he raised his head, looking up to the blonde with guilt. Incredibly enough, there were no tears yet.

"...Everything went smoothly up until I was in front of the king... the knight closest to him, a young red-headed boy... he served as a human shield. If he'd merely pushed him, he probably would still have gotten at least a slash, but this way... not a single scratch on the real target. He went ballistic. The whole kingsguard was after me the very second his knight hit the ground."

Oh-- it sounded like he was making excuses. He stammered a little before closing his eyes again, full of shame.

"T-That was surprising, of course-- but it was still a failure on my part, one I am sure will never happen again."

Silence again. Eichi’s coolness reminded Tsumugi of the first time he presented him to a bloody guest room, but this time he wasn’t so sure he’d be received with the same praise and affection. He almost flinched when Eichi finally spoke, and his voice was nowhere as warm as it had been that day.

“You attempted murder on the king,” He started slowly, raising back to his feet and establishing the hierarchy of their relationship. “Did you assume that was my request, Tsumugi?”

Tsumugi's eyes grew wide and his blood cold as soon as he registered the question, and with it, the realization that everything might have been one gigantic mistake.

"...Yes." He said, cautiously, "I assumed as much. I've had initiative on matters like these before and you've praised it, so... I thought this would be no different."

The effort it took for him not to look away from Eichi as he admitted as much was tremendous. If this really did turn out to be a mistake, the least he could do about it was owning up to it.

Sadly, though, no matter how eager Tsumugi was to take blame or how many times his calls had actually been good in the past, it wouldn’t fix anything. Everybody who knew the Tenshouins knew who Tsumugi served day and night. No matter what case he could make for himself, it would never calm down the ire of King Leo...and Tsumugi knew it. Eichi’s cold, slightly sad expression told him as much. It was most likely the reason Eichi took so long between every reply-- he couldn’t allow himself to make any hasty choices, and most of all, he couldn’t let any personal feelings get in the way of them.

“As I’m sure you must understand by now, you thought wrong.” Eichi said, looking down, his authority clearer than ever. “A wish and a command are two vastly different things, you know.”

Tsumugi knew. But he couldn’t say it now; his lips felt as if they were sewn together by uncertainty, and at his silence, Eichi sighed.

“I’m afraid that you’ve put me in quite a bind, Tsumugi.”

The disappointment in his voice dug deep into Tsumugi’s chest and harder than anger ever could’ve. The servant tightened his fists, shaking as they barely supported his weight against the dirty carpet.

“What do you think would happen if you were to stick around and continue serving me after this?” Eichi continued, “Finheim may be independent from King Tsukinaga’s rule, but it still has an image and alliances to keep to stand strong. You understand as much, don’t you?”

That’s when the tears started joining Tsumugi’s droplets of blood. In a way, he was both devastated and not all that surprised with the direction the conversation was taking. That was it.

“I...I do understand.”

Eichi nodded at that. Despite the coldness of his words, he seemed grateful Tsumugi wasn’t making this any harder than it must already be.

“Truth be told, it would probably be for the best that I gave you up to Leo myself.” He told Tsumugi, crossing his arms. “It would probably help clear the air between us from what’s to become an even uglier relationship, but…”

Tsumugi could’ve sworn he saw Eichi’s brows furrow in sadness, if only for a moment. 

“I really did like you, Tsumugi.”

As if Tsumugi’s world wasn’t already shattering, those words only helped break it into even tinier pieces still. He cried harder, teeth gritted tight to avoid protesting or letting himself be too noisy, and Eichi almost looked regretful. Deep inside, he must’ve at least felt pity for his servant.

“...I talked with Keito,” He continued, doing an excellent job of keeping his composure despite Tsumugi’s transparent grief. “He told me that one of our merchant boats will set sail at dawn for the northern islands, far away from here. If you take all the silver you can carry with you out of the kitchen, it should be enough to buy yourself a place among the fishermen.”

Although Tsumugi knew he no longer served Eichi starting that moment, habit made him worry about all the things he was going to miss if he was to be gone by dawn; he wouldn’t be there to wake Eichi up, to help him get ready for the day, to join him in meetings regarding the managing of the castle and his people. In that same moment, though, he realized with horror that that was never going to be any of his business ever again.

For one bitter moment, he thought he’d rather be given up to Leo Tsukinaga than being set free like this; but as life usually went for him, it wasn’t his choice. He’d live on only because Eichi wished so.

With that resolve in mind, he allowed himself just another minute to let himself cry until his tears went dry. Even Eichi stood in silence for that, and Tsumugi knew there was nothing left for his lord to say.  

“...Understood.” He finally said, quiet and as firm as he could manage. He stood up to his full height, knees and palms numb from forcing all his weight into vowing. It was the worst he ever felt and looked, but Tsumugi still tried for a serious expression as he looked at his lord for what he figured would be the last time; he was as beautiful as ever.

“It was an honor to stand by your side, my lord--” He then shook his head, “No... Eichi-kun.”

Eichi’s smile was sad. He never questioned Tsumugi’s terrible action, but he must’ve known why it happened. He must’ve known for so long that things would end like this, and facing it seemed so inevitable now.

“That’s right...I’m not your lord anymore.” Eichi stepped forward to place his hand over Tsumugi’s cheek one last time, the tips of his gloved fingers barely touching the skin. “But... you will always be a bluebird.”

...Ah, Tsumugi felt like crying again. He was so very sorry.

It’s not like there was any room to say it, though.

Keito came into the room shortly after, a metal cage preserving a lit candle hanging by his hand.

It was time to go.

 

\--

 

It was a lonely, long and quiet way to the boat. Tsumugi already knew Keito wasn’t one for conversation, but it was even more apparent in their horse ride, so slow and tense the colt’s quiet breathing and whinnies were exceedingly clear in their ears.

As the sound of the ocean and muttering fishermen and merchants started getting closer, Keito looked ahead, alert and serious as ever.

“...We’re almost there.”

Tsumugi didn’t even nod, his eyes fixed on his horse’s neck.

“Mm.”

The quiet clip-clop of hooves against the rocky and empty streets overtook their words, and Keito sighed after a moment.

“There were other alternatives...I know this may look bad, but it was the safest one. There really was no way to keep you in the castle.”

“I know.”

They made it to a wide pier a bit after the unsuccessful exchange, right in front of the busy crowd of men readying themselves for their trip.

As the pair secured their horses and started making way to the crowd, hoods of their tunics up and darkening their faces, Keito stopped himself.

“This is as far as I go,” He told Tsumugi, looking into his tunic to drag out a dark bag to hand over to him, “Here’s the silver you’ll need.”

Tsumugi didn’t say anything as he took the goods to place them under his arm. And right as Keito was about to take off, Tsumugi stopped him with a question:

“Do you think everything will be okay if I disappear?”

The young man stopped and looked over his shoulder. His expression wasn’t all that relieving, and neither was his sigh.

“...I have no idea.”

Figures. 

Tsumugi clutched the bag a little tighter before asking another thing.

“Will you be there for Eichi-kun?”

Once again, it looked like Keito wanted really badly to have a good answer-- but because he wasn’t one to lie for the sake of optimism, he sighed once more.

“As much as I can, at least. I have my own family business to take care of.”

It definitely wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but if anything, Tsumugi appreciated the honesty. He nodded, and looked over his own shoulder to give the imposing merchant’s boat a nervous glance-- his home for the following days, or perhaps forever. He gulped.

“Okay…” He said, a little clearer, ready for one last lie. “I think I’m good to go now.”

“Right,” Keito confirmed. He turned and stepped towards him to lay his hand on Tsumugi’s shoulder--it was the first and last time he’d ever had any type of contact with him.

In that moment, Tsumugi felt a little regret that he hadn’t given himself the time to talk more to Keito on all the years he’d known him; If anyone would’ve been able to understand and discuss Eichi and other matters besides work, it probably would’ve been him. He did often find him in the castle’s library, after all.

Ah, but that didn’t matter anymore, did it?

Perhaps in another life.

After one lingering moment, Keito let go and nodded.

“Best of luck, Aoba.”

It might’ve been in Tsumugi’s mind, but something about the way he said it hinted that maybe he was thinking the same. Tsumugi could only nod back, doing his absolute best to be firm about it.

“Mm. You too, Keito-kun. Thank you.”

And that was that.

Tsumugi stood perfectly still, watching Keito’s back turn to retrieve both horses. He didn’t move until he saw the last link to his old life disappear into the foggy distance in a gallop, feeling his stomach both empty and extremely full with all kinds of unpleasant knots.

In a matter of days after his first bad call, he was all alone in the world now.

It also became apparent that his new life wasn’t going to be all that forgiving; he didn’t even have the time to fully understand that loneliness, as he heard the ship’s captain yell at his men to finish boarding right away, and it was then that he realized that he was one of them now.It wasn’t the best of conclusions nor something he was eager to do, but he figured it would do at least for some time--he did always like the sea and how it glittered under sunlight.

In any case, if life as a seadog wasn’t all that good, nothing really forced him to live it. He could give it all up any day he liked, as Eichi had only asked him to get on the boat and nothing beyond that.

That sounded like a plan. He figured as much as he secured his place in the boat, seeing himself in his mind’s eye already working and jumping off into the sea as he traded his bag of silver for a mop. That would definitely do for someone like him.

After all...

Dying at the ocean’s end isn’t such a bad way to go, is it?


End file.
